


Breaking Normality

by virgin_storymaker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter RPF
Genre: Action & Romance, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Developing Relationship, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Malfoy Manor, Mild Smut, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-09 19:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8908666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virgin_storymaker/pseuds/virgin_storymaker
Summary: Hermione Granger enters her sixth year at Hogwarts with a strange feeling that something big is about to happen- a pivotal moment in her life. However, she was never expecting that moment to be shared with a certain Slytherin...





	1. First Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is shameless Dramione... you have been warned. I've already written the first few chapters of this story but I'm planning to update it systematically so I can keep on top of things. The plot takes a while to develop but I promise the end result will be worth it, and there will be increasingly more action as the story progresses. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

Hermione Granger stepped onto platform 9¾ without the usual feeling of excitement bubbling in her stomach. Instead, she felt a certain anticipation as she stopped and waited for the oncoming train that would all too soon come into view, ready to whisk her away to a world where she was no longer considered an outsider. At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she could openly be herself. She no longer had to hide away her differences, pretend like she was 'normal'. Somewhere in the world, she was accepted; because at Hogwarts, you could be what it was not possible to be in the normal world- the 'muggle' world- and no one would judge you for it. Supposedly.

That's what Hermione had believed throughout her first year at the school, and her first year as a witch. Coming from a muggle background, she'd found it hard to fit in there when she knew inwardly that she wasn't like the other children, or even her own parents- the good old faithful dentists. She was special, and at Hogwarts, she found she could finally express herself in every aspect; minus a few hindrances in the form of stuck up pure-bloods who thought muggle-borns had no right to be of magical ethnicity.

However, this year- her sixth at Hogwarts- she was finally starting to consider the fact that the school may no longer be the safe haven for all magic folk she had once upon a time believed it to be. No longer was it secure, certainly not after the multiple infiltrations by Death Eaters such as Barty Crouch Jr. or Peter Pettigrew. Danger was finding its way inside the building in many different forms, slipping through the cracks, barely whispers in the shadows. The wizarding world was becoming a darker place, and as she grew older, Hermione found she could see through the veil of false security more vividly than ever. This year was certainly going to be a lot different.

The sound of the train wheels emitting an ear-splitting screech as they skidded to a halt on the tracks was what jolted Hermione to her senses. Despite staring mystified at the Hogwarts Express for at least a minute, she had failed to compute the fact that the train had rolled pleasantly up to the station and was now patiently waiting for students to board it. Shaking her head, Hermione pulled her woollen jacket straighter, smoothed down her acid wash jeans and reached to grab her rather ginormous suitcase which stood beside her just a couple of inches below her height of 5'5''. Her wand was already neatly tucked away in the waistband of her jeans, but unfortunately she hadn't been able to take her cat, Crookshanks, to the station after insisting she travelled alone this year. Despite wishing her parents were by her side to wave her off like they usually did, Hermione was glad they weren't present as that meant she didn't have them to worry about on top of everything else.

Sighing, she began to haul the suitcase towards the open doors of the waiting train in short bursts by dragging the mammoth trunk across the platform an inch at a time. It was tiring work: the broken buckles lining the side of it kept slapping cruelly against her arm, and the case itself kept tilting at odd angles due to fact the bottom left corner was slightly more worn, making it unbalanced. It had been easy bringing the case to platform 9¾ and through Central Station with the help of a suitcase trolley. But the trolley had had to be left at the entrance for safety purposes, or else the entire platform would have been littered with them as all the other Hogwarts students struggled profusely with their own suitcases.

Hermione grunted with the effort as she continued to pull her bag along. If only you were allowed to use magic outside of school grounds- then she could have levitated the case all the way into a train compartment. But no, rules were rules, no matter how much she ridiculed them. This particular rule did irritate her quite a lot, as surely someone unlikely to cause trouble, such as a prefect, could use magic as soon as they were out of a muggle's sight? Maybe that was an idea she could present to the heads of house at the next house meeting, since she was, in fact, a prefect. She had been appointed the position at the beginning of her fifth year, and would continue to be so right up until the end of school.

Smiling to herself, Hermione finally managed to get her bag onto the train by jumping on first then pulling her suitcase in behind her with enough momentum to almost send her tumbling backwards against the doors of a nearby compartment. Glancing up, she could see many other students suffering the same problems, some with even more bags and cages for their pets, although they did have friends, parents, and siblings old enough to use magic to help them. It was the first time Hermione had really taken in her surroundings, and in surprise she noticed how crowded and flustered the platform had become in a matter of minutes. She had arrived early in order to get an empty compartment, but it looked as though many other students all had the same idea. Now, the entire place was heaving as more and more students appeared through the walls in a steady stream.

The fusillade of shouts and screams and whistles blowing grew even louder as Hermione began her search for an empty compartment. Luckily, she found one merely a few steps down the corridor from where she boarded the train. Hurriedly, she shoved her suitcase inside and slammed the glass door closed, blocking out all the unwelcome noise behind her. Perfect. That was all she needed. Some peace and quiet.

'Hermione!' Someone yelled her name in a somewhat lively tone, and then proceeded to rap harshly against the glass of the compartment door. Peace and quiet- in my dreams, Hermione thought to herself as she rolled her eyes before turning slowly to face her friends Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, who stood out in the corridor, huge smiles of excitement plastered on their faces. It was Harry who, at that moment, slid the door back open, letting the tidal wave of chaos wash back over her.

'Hey,' Hermione greeted as her friends shuffled in and quickly stored their suitcases away in the overhead compartments, including Hermione's.

'Whoa, Hermione,' Harry puffed as he lifted her case up and slotted it away. 'What do you have in there?'

'Oh, quite a lot as I only brought one case,' Hermione explained, settling herself by the window. She looked up at Harry, who came to sit opposite her, and quirked an eyebrow. 'The books will weigh quite a bit too.'

'Bloody hell,' Ron exclaimed, plonking himself down beside Harry. He scratched his bright orange hair as he stared at Hermione in amazement. 'How did you manage to fit everything in that thing? I've got my mum to bring more cases at half term full of all my winter stuff, and even then I would've packed more if I'd had the room.'

'I do have the room,' Hermione continued. 'I used an undetectable extension charm, so, everything fits in one case,' she paused and smiled at Ron and Harry's blank expressions. 'What?' she cried innocently. 'It's practical.'

'You,' Ron started, 'are amazing.' He threw his arms up in a rather dramatic display of disbelief. 'Why didn't I think of something like that? You're so clever- it's annoying. Wait-, ' he stopped suddenly, looking as startled as a rabbit caught in headlights. 'Are you allowed to do something like that?'

Hermione rolled her eyes for the second time. 'Does it matter, Ron? It's undetectable!'

'Since when did you become all rebellious?' Ron questioned, leaning forward to slap her knee in a playful gesture. 'Does it matter? I though you lived by the rules.'

'Of course I'm allowed,' Hermione shot back, although, thinking about it, she wasn't quite sure. 'I'm a prefect, remember.'

Ron's face darkened at that, which made Hermione frown. What had she said? 'Yeah, I'm aware,' he said bluntly. 'I'm one too, remember that? But what I don't remember is being told the rules don't apply to me...'

'Ron, what is it with you? Why are you mad at me all of a sudden?' Hermione demanded, folding her arms. She was tempted to roll her eyes again, but she was pretty sure that would just anger Ron more now that he was- unusually- in a bad mood.

'I'm not,' Ron scowled, mimicking Hermione's movements by crossing his arms over his chest as well.

'Well, your tone of voice say's differently,' Hermione scowled back. 'Honestly, Ron, I've no idea why you're like this. What have I done now?'

'Nothing! Like I said, I'm fine, I'm not in a mood' Ron repeated. 'I was just thinking of something, that's all.'

'Oh?' Hermione said, one eyebrow raised. She leaned forward onto her knees, staring at Ron with her big, soft brown eyes. 'And, what were you thinking of?' When Ron didn't reply, she took a deep breath, and tried again. You had to be patient with Ron. 'Clearly, something is bothering you. Harry and I, we're your friends, so you can tell us.'

'What?' Harry said suddenly, looking up from the coin he'd been spinning repeatedly on the table by the window, oblivious to his friends bickering. 'What's up?'

'Oh, for god's sake, it's nothing. I just hate it when Hermione's all like "I'm a prefect and I can do whatever I want bla-bla-bla". It's so Slytherin.' Ron blurted, slumping back in his seat and shrugging at Harry who was looking at him slightly baffled.

'It is not,' Hermione glared. 'I am nothing like a Slytherin, Ron, how dare you say that about me!' She wondered what had brought all this on. Ron was always in an unpredictable mood, but it was usually due to his family- Percy, for example- or the Quidditch scores, or the teacher's he hated. It was rare he would start directing his aggression towards her. But clearly, she had ticked him off, because now he was comparing her to a Slytherin, of all people!

'I can say whatever the hell I want!' Ron cried, jumping angrily from his seat. Hermione rose with him, also fuming and wearing the same, heated expression.

'Oh, stop being so childish,' Hermione snapped in retort, her eyes- usually warm and gentle- flashing dangerously. 'I've just about had enough of you already, and the train hasn't even set off yet.' Ron opened his mouth the reply, probably by firing another insult, but Hermione cut him off. 'No, Ronald, I no longer care to hear what you have to say. Get changed,' she snapped, turning curtly to snatch up her school robes, which were already folded neatly besides where she had been sitting just moments before (she had removed them from the front pocket of her suitcase before storing it earlier). 'We have a meeting in the prefect's compartment at the head of the train,' she continued, stalking to the door. As she slid it open, she looked back over her shoulder. 'Or, did you forget your duties? I really hope you'll be there, because I live by the rules, and I'd hate for you to exploit them,' she finished, turning away once more with a flick of her fluffy brown hair.

She stepped out without another word, making sure to slam the door firmly behind her. Taking a deep breath, she was just about head off down the corridor, when she paused, and quickly slid the door open again to where Ron and Harry stood speechless, their mouths gaping open. Looking directly past Ron, Hermione gave Harry the biggest, warmest smile she could conjure. 'Bye, Harry,' she said, still smiling sweetly.

Harry blinked once. 'Bye...?' he started, but once again Hermione slammed the compartment door, letting it bang loudly once more. This time, she turned on her heel and sped off, without looking back. 'Hmmm,' Harry muttered to himself after a few long, tense seconds of silence. He scratched his scar nervously. 'Can't say I've missed this...'

'Ron is such an asshole,' Hermione hissed to herself, enraged, as she tried to desperately tug on her tights in the cramped toilet she had decided to change in, since she didn't feel like being all communal back in the compartment, and she hadn't spotted Ginny or any of her other friends in the other compartments on her way to the head of the train. 'I didn't even do anything wrong,' she continued to herself, still tugging desperately on the tights, which seemed intent on getting stuck over her knees.

'Oh, damn these stupid tights,' Hermione cursed, pulling on them so hard she toppled back against the sink. 'Ouch,' she hissed. 'Ok, ok, calm down, Hermione,' she told herself sternly, sitting down with a flop on the toilet seat. She forced herself to sit a few seconds before attempting to pull the tights the rest of the way over her thighs slowly and carefully. After that, she quickly slipped on her compulsory black pleated skirt and buckled shoes, then stood and smoothed down her clothes, spinning to face the small mirror that hung just above the sink, which was smothered in fingerprints and a smear of lipstick in the top right corner. Lipstick, Hermione thought to herself as she fixed her tie- gold and red stripes, the colours of Gryffindor. She smiled pitifully at her reflection, who smiled pitifully back. Who is there to impress at school enough to need lipstick?

Sighing, for what felt the hundredth time that day, Hermione made some final adjustments to her uniform before stepping back out into the corridor...smack into Ron, who ran straight into her with a cry of surprise.

'Hermione,' he gasped. 'I'm sorry,' he said, stumbling backwards in a daze.

'Don't worry, I didn't see you either,' she replied in a monotone voice, pursing her lips before removing a strand of hair that had blown into her face during the collision.

'No, not about that,' Ron rushed, his cheeks glowing with a red tinge. 'About earlier, it was out of order. Actually, it was just plain rude of me, and Harry and I talked and I realised- '

Hermione held up a hand for silence. 'Save it,' she snapped. 'Just...save it.'

'Hermione...' Ron started again, stepping forward, but she stepped back a pace just as he did.

'Come on,' she said plainly, beginning to walk off. 'We're both late now.'

'Oh...' Ron groaned. 'I am such an idiot,' he whined, smacking his hand against his forehead before trailing after his friend, who strutted on ahead. As he began to walk, the train decided it was a good time to set off. So, with another screech of its wheels the sharp shriek of a bell, it pulled forward abruptly, causing Ron to fall against Hermione's back yet again. 'Bloody hell...sorry,' he cried again, quickly pulling back to regain his balance. The train was now rolling forwards out of the station at a much smoother pace, although Hermione hadn't turned when he fell on her, she just continued walking, blatantly ignoring him.

She kept walking all the way to the prefect's compartment, where she finally stopped to slide open the door and march inside, Ron slipping in after her, head bowed.

'Sorry we're late,' Hermione called out in a clear voice, announcing their presence to the rest of the students gathered in the spacious area. Her eyes trailed over the interior of the compartment, which was much the same it was last time she had been in it, however it still managed to make her smile. The first time she'd had a prefect meeting, she had arrived so accustomed to years of the scratchy tartan seats, broken doors and flip up tables that seeing a compartment four times the size with lush, leather seating, a large mahogany table crowded with tea and cakes and lights with light intensity settings was almost unreal.

Everyone was already there when she and Ron entered: Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff were together by the window, Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil sat opposite sporting their shiny Ravenclaw badges, and Pansy Parkinson hung on the edge of her seat as far from Ernie as she could possibly sit, alone. Correction, Hermione thought, everyone is here but Draco. This didn't surprise her, considering the Slytherins didn't seem to take their prefect duties all too seriously, instead deciding to exploit their power by never showing up to meetings and bullying the younger students into doing as they said. Hermione was even mildly impressed to see that Pansy had shown up at all, even though it was mandatory. In her opinion, Slytherins shouldn't even be given the positions, but Snape was grossly fond of his little serpentine slaves who found joy in deducting as many points from the other houses as possible and making people cry.

As usual, Professor McGonagall was stood by the compartment door as Hermione and Ron stepped through, a stack of parchment in her hands. 'Gryffindor,' McGonagall stated, addressing Hermione and Ron collectively by their house name as they arrived. 'You're later than usual, but no matter, the meeting has just started. Come in, come in,' she beckoned, passing them each a piece of parchment which contained a long list of all the events that would take place of the course of the coming term.

Hermione took her place next to Padma, and Ron followed cautiously, scooting silently in beside her as she exchanged greetings with the Ravenclaw prefects and smiled across to the Hufflepuffs. She began to scan through the list she was given as everyone got settled, and McGonagall slid the compartment door closed.

'Tea, Ronald?' McGonagall offered, waving a hand towards the cup set in front of him that was full to the brim of the steaming hot drink.

'Um, thank you, Professor,' Ron said with a weak smile, reaching for the cup and taking a huge gulp. His eyes bulged as he set it down again. 'Ow,' he whispered to himself, licking his lips profusely, 'hot.'

'Careful,' McGonagall said with a wry smile in his direction, 'it's quite hot. Anyway,' she continued, turning to face the rest of the prefects, 'down to business. Could you all please take a look at the schedule for the first week of term- '

Suddenly, there was a bang as the compartment door was thrown open so violently it caused McGonagall to jump and Ron to spill his tea over his robes. Hermione's head snapped up from the parchment she was scanning to see Draco Malfoy storm into the room, head bowed and hands shoved in his pockets. Without even a quick glance up he took a couple of massive strides to slide into the seat besides Pansy, who looked genuinely shocked to see him. His legs seemed to eat up the floor as he walked over, Hermione noted, and she wondered when he had got so tall.

McGonagall didn't utter a word as Draco took his seat, she only handed him the parchment she'd given to everyone else in silence, her lips drawn in a thin line. He snatched it from her grasp with long, spidery fingers, eventually looking up to read it with a grimace. He could have been beautiful if his grey eyes weren't so flat and dull, and his lips weren't stuck in a permanent scowl. Although, since fifth year, he had changed his hair from greasily scraped back to messily pushed forward, plus it appeared to be cleaner and somehow, not as stark white as it once was. This was a relief, because Hermione didn't think she could stand staring another minute at Draco's unearthly pallid skin tone and snow-white hair combination. His complexion literally made her feel unwell. Was he actually permanently ill or was it just the pallor of being a sickly little ferret? Not that she cared.

McGonagall cleared her throat. 'As I was saying...' she began, before launching into her usual prefect speech on the term's activities and guiding the first years. Normally, Hermione would be intently listening at this point, perched on the edge of her seat absorbing every little bit of information McGonagall spoke. Last year she had been so proud of her prefect role, and had taken it very seriously. For some reason, however, this year she felt different.

It was still a nice feeling to be elected, yes, and of course she still wanted to help people and keep the school organised but...this time round she felt less inclined to dedicate her entire school life to her work and her duties. Shouldn't she be making the most of her friends and privileges this year? After all, it could be the last full school year she spent at Hogwarts, what with all that was going on in the wizarding world. That's a terrifying thought, Hermione deliberated, chewing absently on a strand of her hair as she gazed past McGonagall, ignorant to her words. In a year, or even less than a year, the world as she knew it could have completely changed- and everything and everyone she loved could become part of the chaos. Yes, she confirmed to herself. This year, I'm going to let loose and be less of the 'insufferable little know-it-all' I know I am.

'Alright, that's everything I needed to discuss with you,' McGonagall said, concluding her speech. 'Thank you for the suggestions Ravenclaw, I'll consider your opinions,' she carried on, nodding at the two students behind Hermione, but not before she gave her a quick, questioning look. 'If anyone has any questions you can just come up and ask me. You're all welcome to stay and help yourself to the selection of food we have here, and I'll be back in a moment.' And with that McGonagall was out the compartment with a sweep of her emerald green cloak.

As soon as she was out of sight Hermione didn't hesitate to leap up and head for the door. She really didn't feel like staying, although she would have usually stayed and sat with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws to catch up and discuss their prefect roles. Out of the corner of her eye she could also see Ron- who she had just climbed over to escape- reaching for a plate of jam tarts positioned at the centre of the table. Clearly, he was going to hang back, either because he knew Hermione wouldn't want him around or because of his love of food. Either way, it didn't matter to Hermione. She just wanted some alone time.

Once she got to the door, she tried tugging it open, but found it was somehow jammed. 'What in the world,' she muttered, spinning right into someone as she turned to ask for help. Startled, she tripped to the side, an apologetic look on her face as she turned to face the person who was stood behind her. Her expression immediately darkened when she realised she was facing Draco.

'Having problems, Granger?' he smirked, stepping forwards for his attempt at jerking the jammed door ajar.

'Oh, shut up, Malfoy,' Hermione spat back, watching as his arm muscles flexed and strained as he pulled against the handle, which must have really been wedged in position. After a few attempts, he was successful in prizing the door wide enough for someone to slip through.

He turned back to Hermione, pushing a loose strand of blonde hair out of his eyes, and gesturing to the gap with a sweep of his arm. 'After you,' he said mockingly.

Hermione pulled a face and stalked from the room as quickly as she could, not bothering to fire another insult at Draco again. She really couldn't be bothered to acknowledge the fact he had just bettered her at door opening. Peace and quiet: that was the ultimate goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter probably coming very soon because I want to get this ball rolling on this (and I'm also very impatient). Please feel free to comment or leave kudos if you liked the first chapter!


	2. The Vanishing Cabinet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was right... I couldn't wait more than a day to upload the next chapter. Of course, I won't usually be uploading chapters daily, this is just to kick the story off a bit. I also feel that in this chapter things get a little bit more interesting (I hope you are ready for the first cliffhanger!). Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy reading it :)

Peace and quiet never really happened. The rest of the day passed so quickly, Hermione felt as if she herself were a train, blurring past life without so much as a proper glance, and not before too long, every moment was far behind her. She vaguely remembered arriving at Hogwarts, escorting the first years to the Great Hall, and the grand meal that followed- though she didn't eat much of it. She had laughed with her friends and talked about the summer, but none of the conversations she could remember. All she could recall was that she had been happy, and yet sad, all at the same time.

She wasn't sure if she still felt that same, confusing mix of emotions- even at the current moment in time as she lay sprawled across the arm of one of the sofas in the Gryffindor common room. Ginny was slumped closest to her, her face hidden beneath a curtain of thick, ginger hair as she snored softly to herself, fast asleep. Harry and Ron were sat facing them on the opposing sofa, surrounded by a group of boys- including Neville and Seamus- who all appeared to be laughing at some comedic article in the Daily Prophet. Ron had been avoiding her all evening, or was it Hermione who had been avoiding him? Either way, she wasn't ready to forgive him for his ridiculous outburst earlier: Ron could get mad, but Hermione could definitely hold a grudge.

With Ginny out cold and the boys distracted, Hermione found herself feeling rather bored. She knew she could read- a book was likely to engage her and take her mind off things- but for some reason she couldn't find the strength to actually get up and find one. Of course, there were loads lying around, but none to her level of intellect. Then there was the Daily Prophet: copies of the most recent edition were strewn all over the room, however all the stories were the same these days. There was nothing to talk about. Just anticipation.

What Hermione really wanted was to move her legs, which were stiff from being curled up in the same, awkward position for at least an hour. With a yawn, she rose slowly to her feet, ignoring her knees as they protested with a click. 'Gross,' she cringed as she began to tip-toe off to the portrait, amazed that no one even noticed her departure- not even Harry. She had finally decided to go on a small walk around to clear her head, and possibly escort any lost pupils should she come across any.

Once she was out in the corridor she realised how stuffy it must have been in the common room; outside of it the air was much cooler and a refreshing change to the oppressive atmosphere she had just experienced. The candles that lined the stone walls were very dimly lit, providing just enough light to cast a faint glow across the floor. Most of the corridor was bathed in shadow, as many of the candles had been blown out since it was so late in the evening. There were, however, still enough to see where you were going. Even if it did get too dark, Hermione had brought her wand with her- which was now stashed securely in her robes- to use if she needed.

As she began to walk, she also wondered if this had been a good idea. There was no specific rule saying you weren't allowed out in the corridors late- and she was a prefect- but she couldn't help feeling uneasy. It was too quiet. A refreshing change to the bustling Gryffindor common room, yes, but it was quiet enough to make Hermione's breath sound like thunder to her ears. Regardless of her strange unease, she walked on, picking up her pace and wrapping her arms round her torso as if they offered her extra protection. There was no denying it: this year Hermione was certainly more superstitious than previously. But then again, everyone was.

After hurrying down what felt like hundreds of corridors (though she had probably only been walking for 10 minutes or so), Hermione finally slowed down a rather short corridor which was almost completely black. The only way Hermione could see was due to the mauve light of the moon which shone in through the arched windows lining the left wall. The opposite wall was bare of ornaments, but every meter or so along it there stood a wide, stone pillar which measured about a metre in width, also. Hermione was feeling less apprehensive compared to when she had left the common room, and was grateful for the first opportunity to clear her head and have a little time to herself since the beginning of the day. Just as she was about to turn right down the next corridor and head back to bed, however, she heard footsteps. Quick, sharp footsteps that echoed with every step, coming steadily closer from down the corridor adjacent to where she stood.

In panic, she leapt behind the closets pillar and pressed her back up against it, suddenly fearful of being caught wandering around so late again. She sucked in a breath as a tall figure swept by where she was hidden, melting as far into the shadows as she possibly could. Luckily, they didn't seem to acknowledge her presence, rushing onwards with a sense of urgency, as if they had somewhere important to be. Hermione could instantly tell who it was, even in the dimness, for the whitish hair that hung down over their eyes and their even whiter skin was unmistakable: it was Draco Malfoy.

Her mother once told her curiosity would be her downfall, but Hermione had always thought it a useful skill, to be so inquisitive. She wasn't so sure now, as she peeled herself away from the wall and slipped after Draco, keeping to the shadows. A small voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to stop. Whatever Draco was up to, it was probably none of her business, and she probably didn't want to know. However, no matter how much she felt she should stop, it didn't make any difference. Curiosity flooded through her veins and fuelled her rapidly thumping heart. She followed Draco as if in a trance, like she wasn't even able to control her own body. It kept moving forwards, smooth and silent as a cat, and she let it.

Draco turned sharply at the end of the corridor, continuing down an even darker hallway, which was useful for Hermione, considering there were no more pillars to dart behind. She made sure she was well behind him as he marched steadily onwards, turning another few times, then ascending a flight of stairs two at a time, his jet black robe billowing out behind him like a crow's outspread wings. He was definitely up to something, because every minute or so he would glance nervously around- to the left and right, and behind- before continuing. Each time he did this Hermione would stop sharply, trying to keep her breathing silent and her body as still as possible. Fortunately, he hadn't seemed to notice her.

And still, after a good five minutes, Draco was unaware he was being followed as he climbed another flight of stairs, getting him to the 7th floor. Here he turned left, giving Hermione a sudden realisation. She knew where he was going, she was absolutely positive. For down the left corridor on the 7th floor was none other than the Room of Requirement. As if confirming her thoughts, Draco drew to a halt as soon as he reached the end of the corridor, between the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and a seemingly bare stone wall. Hermione hovered at the turning to the corridor, waiting.

Just as she expected, Draco began pacing- back and forth, back and forth- three times along the corridor until a great door covered in a dozen swirling metal grids began to appear along the bare wall. In a matter of seconds, the entire door had materialized, and as soon as it had, Draco stopped pacing and tugged it open a few inches, just wide enough to allow him to slip inside. Before he closed the door he looked back down the long corridor once more, this time directly towards Hermione.

With a squeak of surprise she prayed wasn't too loud, she flung herself sideways back towards the stairs and out of view. Heart beating, she waited with baited breath for the sound of footsteps coming towards her. But none came. After she felt she had waiting long enough, she slowly peered back around the corner, finally assured she hadn't been spotted by the fact the wall opposing the tapestry was once again bare. Both Draco and the door had vanished.

'Ok, you can do this,' Hermione muttered to herself as she began to half walk, half run down the corridor to where Draco had been stood minutes before, her footsteps echoing loudly in the silence. As soon as she reached the wall she quickly walked past it three times, which was the number of times requisite to ensure the door appeared. While pacing she thought to herself 'I need to find out what Draco is up to' repeatedly, and sure enough, after three times back and forth, the door once again melted into existence.

Behind the door, she knew she would find Draco, and whatever he was up too. For some reason this made her oddly nervous, for, although he wasn't the most intimidating person, he could be doing anything in there. He was a Slytherin, and his parents were Death Eaters, she was sure of it. Why Draco was using the room of requirement in the dead of night she had no idea, but one thing she was absolutely certain of was that it wasn't good. Despite this, and her lingering fear, she was desperate to find out. So, pushing her doubts aside, and drawing her wand out at the ready, she took a deep breath and opened the door as quickly as she could, darting inside and closing it with a sharp pull.

Then she stared. Her arm, which had been extended forward as it gripped her wand, dropped to the side as she continued to gape openly. Draco was nowhere to be seen. She had been expecting something terrible, like an army of Death Eaters, or some sort of portal, or Voldemort himself to be stood in the centre of the room with Draco kissing his feet. Not complete emptiness.

All she could see were a couple of broken chairs, a cracked mirror tipped on its side, and various other pieces of old furniture, all covered in a blanket of dust and stringy cobwebs. The room she remembered from the DA meetings was long and narrow with a great fireplace on the far wall and candelabras decorating the high ceiling. This room was entirely different: it was slightly wider, but only marginally, and ended only a few feet away. The light was much dingier, and seemed to come from nowhere in particular, and it stank. The air was thick and humid, a foul smell of rot and mould that filled Hermione's nostrils and made her want to choke. Nevertheless, it wasn't any of this that really bothered Hermione. Her main concern was the apparent disappearance of Draco. If he was in here, she would have easily been able to spot him, for there was no place to hide. Every corner of the room was visible, and even the furniture offered little coverage. She had asked the room to show her what Draco was up to, and why else would it give her a disgusting, cramped space filled with dank furniture?

There had to be a reason she was seeing this, and she knew that Draco had to be somewhere. The room was never wrong. Maybe there's another door somewhere? she thought to herself as she began edging further inside, drawing up her wand again. She began feeling along the walls with one hand, keeping her wand grasped tightly in the other, searching frantically for anything- a crack, a dent, a button- that would indicate there was another way out. The stones she ran her hand over were unusually smooth and flattened; as if they had been sanded until there was no uneven surface. No matter how many times she circled the room, she could find no purchase or secret door.

It was hot in the room. A cool sweat had broken out at the hairline on Hermione's forehead and neck. Her hair began to frizz in the heat, and curl where it had gone damp at her temples. She huffed in annoyance as she moved away from the wall and began to examine the furniture piled all over the floor. Everything was broken and empty of anything that would give her clues, such as a pendant or a spell book, or even a strange marking carved into the wood. The only thing that stood out was the largest item in the room, a tall, triangular cabinet of dark oak with a large cloth heaped at its base.

This is what had caught Hermione's eye: the cloth. Of course, she thought to herself. How could I have been so stupid? With another sigh, this time directed towards herself, she rushed over to the cabinet and plucked the cloth from the floor. A cloth which looked as if it had once been covering the cabinet, that someone might have flung off. And that someone, she guessed, was Draco. As she shook the material, she noticed a small slip of parchment that must have been under it fluttering on the floor.

Crouching, she snatched up the parchment and unfolded it eagerly to read what was written. Sure enough, someone had scrawled something across the scrap of paper in black ink. The words read 'Harmonia Nectere Passus'. Hermione frowned as she stood and stared at the cabinet. She glanced back towards the parchment in her hand, then up again, and tried reading what was written out loud.

'Harmonia Nectere Passus,' she called out with as much confidence as she could muster, all the while staring hard at the cabinet. Her voice rang out sharply, resonating around the room, despite it being full of furniture, before silence one again befell. Nothing happened. Hermione's frown deepened, and this time she reached forwards and tugged at the cabinets handle. Locked.

Frustrated, she took her wand and pointed it at the uncooperative lock. 'Alohomora,' she whispered, speaking the unlocking charm she had used many times before from the Book of Spells. Surprisingly, she heard a welcoming click, and then the door creaked open slightly.

'Interesting,' Hermione observed, as she pulled the door fully open to reveal a bare space inside. Although there was no Draco, Hermione was no longer worried. What with the strange charm scrawled on the piece of parchment, and the unusual shaped cabinet, she had a pretty good idea of what this was, and how Draco had managed to disappear, although she didn't like what she was thinking. She had never encountered a Vanishing Cabinet before, she had only read about them. But, the more she thought about it, she realised she had seen pictures of a tall, triangular-like closet, and this matched the description. If she thought hard, she could also remember how they worked.

Vanishing Cabinets allowed a person or an object to travel between two places that could be any distance apart, as long as there was a cabinet at either end. Although Apparition would accomplish the teleportation method without them, Hermione was pretty sure you couldn't Apparate within school grounds, unless you were a teacher. So that meant Draco was using Vanishing Cabinets to leave the school grounds, but why he would do that, Hermione didn't know. To use one, she knew you had to climb inside and speak an incantation, allowing you to travel to the twin cabinet. She also knew that in order for her to find out what Draco was up to; she would have to follow him to his destination.

This was, of course, incredibly dangerous. Draco, due to his family, was in with a bad crowd. Many people he knew were worshipers of Voldemort- so it was highly likely he had gone to some sort of Death Eater meeting. What was more alarming was the fact that the cabinets worked both ways. That meant someone, anyone, could travel back the way he had come, right into the heart of Hogwarts. Hermione knew that she should turn back immediately, find anyone and tell them what she had discovered. But she was in a trance again.

Without thinking she clambered inside the cabinet and swung the door closed with a bang. In an instant she was enveloped in darkness. Surrounding her she could feel the flat wooden panels of the cabinet she was hunched against. All she could hear was the scuffing of her shoes and her quick, panicked breaths. In her hands she still clutched her wand and the now crushed parchment containing the words she needed for this to work. Shakily, she unfolded the paper and flicked her wand, resulting in a flare of light appearing at its tip. Gulping, she once again read out the password that would transport her to the unknown. 'Harmonia Nectere Passus.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 coming soon... (But not as soon as chapter 2, sorry)


	3. Borgin And Burkes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so Chapter 3... Just a reminder that I will most likely be updating on a weekly basis, or it may take even longer depending on what I am doing in my daily life and also with a couple of other stories I have in the works. Writing takes up a lot of time so please forgive me, but you'll just have to be patient if this story is left untouched for a bit. Though, hopefully it doesn't come to that :) 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter...

Draco emerged from the Vanishing Cabinet, relieved to be free from the cramped space. He was now standing in the back corner of Borgin and Burkes- a dark magic shop located down Knockturn Alley. Now that he was here, the staggering sense of uneasiness he had been experiencing earlier flooded back to him as he forced himself to walk forwards. Getting here he had been feeling more confident, if anything. Once inside the Room of Requirement, he had just got on with preparing the cabinet, and that act of doing something without having to watch his back every five seconds had taken his mind off things. But now he was finally here, and he knew what was going to happen next.

As he walked up to the shop counter, he made sure he was stood tall, with his shoulders pushed back, and that he strode with confidence, although he really felt like curling in on himself and running all the way back to Hogwarts. Anywhere but Borgin and Burkes.

'Draco Malfoy,' said a voice. Draco glanced down to see a rather short, stooped man grinning menacingly at him from behind the counter. He was bald with an odd, egg shaped head, and when he smiled Draco could see he was missing a number of teeth, the rest blackened.

'Yes,' Draco replied, unsure of what else to say. He did not know this strange, little man, but obviously the man knew him. Of course, this was expected. He was expected. The man smiled again, this time letting out a gargled, wheezing laugh that made Draco cringe inwardly. He tried to keep his face expressionless as the man hobbled around the counter to face him.

'Follow me,' he cackled, beckoning Draco forwards with a long, talon-like finger. With that he turned and made his way through an archway just behind him at the back of the shop, with Draco close behind at his wake.

The man led him along a corridor lined with crooked wooden beams, and then up a flight of twisting metal stairs that wobbled precariously as they took them. He never spoke, only snorted to himself every once in a while as if he'd thought of something funny. As they walked on Draco took the opportunity to straighten out his cloak and push back his fringe- doing his best to look presentable, whilst trying, albeit in vain, to keep calm.

Eventually, his guide led him through an open door into a large room with a wooden floor, walls and ceiling, from which hung a dozen brightly lit lamps. There were windows, but all the curtains were drawn closed. At the centre of the room stood a grand fireplace, a flickering green fire blazing away in the hearth, a bucket of floo powder placed on the mantelpiece. Two long, black, plush leather sofas were placed facing each other, sideways on to the fire, and sprawled across the one that faced the door sat Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy.

Any son would usually be pleased to see their father, but not Draco. He was never pleased to see Lucius these days, although he had been, once. Whenever his father showed up, it often meant something bad, even though this meeting was supposed to be a good thing. Stood in a cluster between the two sofas was a crowd of Death Eaters- all his father's friends, and all people Draco at least new the names of. He recognised Alecto and Amycus Carrow, Thorfinn Rowle, Fenir Greyback, and then stood behind them were Yaxley and Gibbon. All were famously faithful to Voldermort. On the sofa facing away from him, Draco recognised his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, from her ridiculously scruffy hairdo.

As soon as he stepped into the room, Lucius spotted him. A wide smile of pride spread across his face as he flung his arms out in greeting. 'Draco,' he cried, rising to his feet. Immediately, all the other heads turned to stare at the new arrival. Lucius, still beaming, glided across the room to grasp Draco by the shoulders and lead him towards everyone else. Draco looked behind him for the man who had led him here, but found he was nowhere to be seen. That meant he had been stood alone in the doorway for however long, looking like a fool. He cursed silently.

Bellatrix turned on the sofa, bouncing up and down in excitement. 'You made it,' she exclaimed in her usual, slightly hysterical voice.

'Of course he did,' Lucius said smugly. 'I knew that-'

'The Cabinet's work,' Draco interjected, smiling with the same smug expression his father held. As he looked around, he received some rather impressed looks that actually made him feel almost as proud as his father appeared. He'd never accomplished something so important for the Death Eater's before.

His smile faded slightly as he felt his father's grip tighten on his shoulders, his nails digging painfully into his skin. 'Do not interrupt me,' Lucius hissed between his teeth, still managing to keep smiling though he was obviously not happy with the spotlight being taken off him. Like usual, already his father was beginning to get angry with him. No matter what Draco did, no matter what he said, his father would always find a way to get mad. 'This is, of course, excellent news,' he continued, still gripping Draco painfully by the shoulders as he led him to stand in front of the fireplace, where finally he let go.

Draco rolled his shoulders back in annoyance, and went to sit on the empty sofa, but found he was jerked back by Lucius' hand on his arm.

'My son has completed the first mission,' Lucius announced to the Death Eaters crowded round. Bellatrix continued to jump up and down, clapping her hands in excitement. 'Which means we know we can safely enter Hogwarts School when the time is right,' he added, slapping Draco on the back a little too hard in a supposedly congratulatory gesture, but Draco knew better. It was his father's way of telling him to keep his mouth shut.

'When will that be?' asked a gruff voice that could only belong to Fenir Greyback.

'I want to end him now,' Bellatrix growled in an impatient tone, banging her hand against the sofa top. 'How much longer do I have to wait, Lucius? The sooner he's gone the better for us.'

'Patience, Bellatrix.' It was Thorfinn who answered, the oldest of the group, who was spinning a menacing looking pointed staff between his long, bony fingers in thought. 'We have to wait for the word, you know that.'

'But he needs to die,' Bellatrix whined, pouting profusely.

Draco couldn't bear to stay silent any longer. Questions swirled around his head, making him feel dizzy. 'Who needs to die?' he blurted, earning a glare from Lucius.

'Why, Albus Dumbledore, of course,' Bellatrix grinned, cackling madly. 'Who needs to die? Honestly!' She snorted and burst into another fit of giggles. 'You should know, you're the one to kill him!'

Draco froze at that, the colour draining from his face. His brain tried to process what he had just heard, but he found that he couldn't think straight. 'What?' he whispered.

'You heard me,' Bellatrix said. Then she frowned and tilted her head until it almost rested atop her left shoulder. Her dark eyes bore into his grey ones like lasers. 'Don't tell me you didn't know,' she scoffed. At that a murmur broke out across the room. Bellatrix looked up to Lucius, then back at Draco. She laughed again. 'Oh, you didn't! Lucius didn't tell you. Oh, how funny.'

'Funny?' Draco accused. 'How is that funny? I- I've never killed anyone before.'

'It's a great honour,' Lucius said bluntly, his lips pressed in a thin line. But Draco was too confused and panicked to notice his father's anger towards his outburst.

'I can't!' Draco cried, shaking his head, and taking an automatic step backwards. Everyone was staring at him, but all he could feel was a growing horror at the prospect. Why had he been chosen to kill Dumbledore? Why him? He was the least experienced- the one who had never actually killed somebody.

'What do you mean, you can't?' Bellatrix sniggered. She continued in a plane tone; as if she were reciting a well-known fact. 'Every Death Eater can kill. What difference does it make who it is?'

'It's Dumbledore!' Draco cried desperately, his eyes wide and scared. 'Everyone will know...'

'It's a great way to prove yourself to Lord Voldemort,' Lucius snapped, eyeing Draco with a dangerous glint in his eye. 'Come now, Draco, of course you can perform this task. A lot depends on this, you know.'

'You are a Death Eater, aren't you Draco?' Thorfinn inquired from across the room, an eyebrow raised.

'I-,' Draco stammered.

'Of course he is!' Lucius replied for him, grasping Draco's left sleeve and yanking it up to reveal the Dark Mark engraved on the inner part of his forearm. It was inky black, the symbol of a snake protruding from the skull's mouth as clear as ever. He'd got the mark in the summer; his father had insisted that it was the right time, that he was ready. 'Draco will do this, you have my word,' he said gravely.

'You know what will happen if he doesn't,' Greyback said maliciously, licking his lips with a horrible slurping sound that reminded Draco of a rabid dog eying its prey.

'Severus Snape,' Lucius answered sharply, 'has agreed to finish the task should Draco fail. But I'm telling you, he shall not! I swear it.'

'Let's all hope that's true,' Alecto spoke up for the first time, his arm circled across his sister's, who in turn smiled into his shoulder with a cold sneer.

Thorfinn stepped forward, the right corner of his mouth pulled into a twisted smile as he looked at Draco with intense eyes. 'We can rely on you, can't we Draco?'

Draco was hot and cold all at the same time. He could feel sweat dripping down his back as he stood, unmoving, unsure of what to say. All eyes were upon him, and although he wasn't looking at Lucius, he could feel his father's gaze boring down on him, filled with a growing rage and strong anticipation. He was not pleased. When Draco gulped, it hurt his throat. 'Yes,' he said, as steadily as he could. 'You can rely on me, I swear. I just...I need some time...'

'Atta boy, Mr Malfoy,' Thorfinn said, as if he were speaking to a little boy. The man stepped forward and ruffled Draco's white bond hair. 'A handsome young man like you has nothing to fear. I knew you'd do it. Well, it's not like you have a choice, of course,' he added with a smirk.

'He should get back to school,' Lucius declared all of a sudden, his hand snaking towards Draco's back. 'We can continue this meeting without him.' His announcement was met with a few murmurs and nods from the other Death Eaters, whose eyes were all still lingering on Draco and his father.

'Of course,' Thorfinn agreed, voicing what the others were thinking. It was clear to Draco that they were all waiting to discuss something else that excluded him- probably something classified he wasn't even sure he wanted to know. These were some of Voldemort's most trusted followers, so it was likely to be immensely important.

'Bye, poppet,' Bellatrix said, waving as Lucius escorted Draco out the room as quickly as possible, not stopping to look back. He half dragged half guided Draco through the doorway, back along the cramped corridor and down the stairs. He was walking at such a fast pace that Draco would have found it difficult to keep up had his farther not had a hold of him. As soon as they had reached the main part of the store, Lucius flung Draco forwards with all his might.

With a cry of surprise, Draco skidded across the room and smacked into the shop counter, crumpling to his knees as soon as he made impact, his hands flying out in front of him automatically as he landed. He stayed on all fours for a few seconds, breathing hard. When he finally looked up, through a curtain of hair he could see his farther standing, feet spread apart, his wand raised above his head. The hand that held it shook with rage and his face was a livid red.

'You stupid boy,' he snarled, spit flying everywhere. Draco's eyes were wide with shock. 'You almost ruined that for me. What will the Dark Lord think when he hears that Lucius Malfoy's son is a coward? This will not sit well with our family. You've endangered me and your mother and everyone else you bloody care about! I told you not to mess this up, and look what you've gone and done. Refused to perform the task he so graciously gave you? You never refuse the Dark Lord, never. But no, little Draco was only thinking about himself, as always. Which reminds me- WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?' he finished with a roar, bringing the wand up even higher, his whole body shaking now.

'I-' Draco began, but his father wasn't listening. Instead, with a shout of anger he thrust his wand in front of him, green sparks shooting from the tip.

Draco threw himself sideways to avoid the spell, but Lucius fired again. Draco ducked, and the spell crashed into the shelf where his head had been moments before, shattering a dozen glass jars in the process. He lifted his arms above his head in defence as glass shards fell around him, leaving him in a pool of the glittering fragments. When he brought his arms back down, he saw they were covered in hundreds of little cuts, scarlet blood spilling from each wound, bright against the stark whiteness of his skin.

He glanced up just in time to see Lucius barrelling towards him, hatred for his son blazing in his eyes. Draco had never seen his father so mad, with that look on his face- but then again he had never disappointed him on a task of this scale. He only had time to blink before Lucius was upon him, lifting him up and crushing him against the rim of the counter.

Lucius brought his fist back and released it. A fiery pain flared up across Draco's face, his head snapping backwards. A bitter metallic taste filled his mouth, and he felt something sticky at his nose. He threw his hands up in surrender, leaning back as far as he could before Lucius could hit him again.

'Father, please!' he begged. 'This wasn't what I-' He was interrupted again, as Lucius yanked up his sleeve to yet again reveal Draco's Dark Mark. Draco turned his head away in disgust.

'Look at this,' Lucius spat, pressing the tip of his wand into Draco's forearm. Suddenly his arm was stinging as if he'd been stabbed with a thousand needles, forcing him to look back, to stare at the inky tattoo engraved forever upon his skin. 'This,' Lucius continued, 'binds you to the Dark Lord. This is who you are. You cannot fail him.'

Draco bit his lip, which was beginning to tremble. 'I can't do it,' he whispered, his voice sounding disgustingly pathetic to his own ears. But he couldn't help it; the words just kept spilling from his lips. 'I can't kill him, I can't!'

Instead of more anger, this confession seemed to calm Lucius. He let go of Draco, straightened his serpent green cloak, and arranged the silver broach that clasped it at the throat. He stared down at his son as if he were eyeing a cockroach. He spoke, his voice thick with disappointment. 'I always knew you were weak, Draco, but, whether you like it or not, you will kill Albus Dumbledore,' he said. 'Now, get out of my sight.' And with that he turned on his heel and stalked off without another word, his long blond hair flying out behind him, the click of his heels ringing out in the silence.

Draco was left staring after him, his knuckles white as they gripped the counter. Left in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please feel free to leave kudos or write a comment if you enjoyed it... Next chapter coming soon :)


	4. Confrontation

Hermione couldn't remember how she had made it back to bed that night. She woke with a start, sitting bolt upright, her covers strewn around her in a heaped mess. She wondered for a moment how she had got there- she couldn't recall retiring to the girl's dorm in the evening. Then, out of the blue, her memories came flooding back.

Tumbling out of the Vanishing Cabinet in Borgin and Burkes. The dark magic shop down Knockturn alley. Ducking behind a cabinet when she had heard approaching voices. Seeing Lucius Malfoy hit his son with such rage. Draco's Dark Mark. Lucius' announcement to kill Dumbledore. Draco's refusal to do so. Following Draco back through the Cabinet. And running, running all the way back to the Gryffindor common room without stopping.

'You look like you slept well,' a voice cut through her thoughts. Her head snapped up, and she saw Ginny Weasley, also sat up in bed, grinning at her from across the room.

'I... had a bad dream,' Hermione said with a yawn, stretching her arms out in front of her.

'After the first day back at school? Well if that isn't a bad sign...'Ginny said, kicking off her covers and stumbling to her feat with a groan.

'Oh, please,' Hermione huffed, mimicking her actions. 'You're starting to sound like Professor Trelawney,' she said, referring to the slightly batty teacher of Divination. 'Not something I want to deal with first thing in the morning.'

Ginny sighed. 'You're right. Everyone gets nightmares- it's just you usually sleep like a rock.'

'Um, says you,' Hermione replied in an accusing tone, raking a comb through her hair whilst juggling to untangle her robes from the heap she had left them in on the floor. 'You were passed out on the couch before we even had to make it upstairs.'

'Really?' Ginny said in mock surprise. 'I don't remember that. And, speaking of which, I also don't remember seeing you come to bed last night,' she scrunched up her face in thought, and then shook her head. 'Like, at all. Where were you?'

Hermione panicked briefly before saying, as calmly as she could, 'that's strange. I was there most of the evening. But, come to think of it, I did go out for a short walk early on whilst you were asleep, although I definitely came back before bed. I think...you were a little tired by that point,' she finished with a smile.

Ginny frowned. 'Oh,' she said. Then her face transformed into a picture of blissful happiness as another thought popped into her head, replacing the confusion caused by Hermione's lie. 'You went out by yourself? Look at you getting all rebellious. I'm liking it,' she said with a laugh, finishing getting ready by shrugging her Gryffindor cloak on over her uniform. 'I'm done, you?'

'I'm ready,' Hermione said with a nod, and with that the two girls marched through the door, down the stairs and out of the Gryffindor common room into one of the main corridors. It didn't take them long to make their way to the Great Hall, where breakfast was being served, chatting all the while about the different lessons they were taking, and how many boys Ginny had dated over the summer- the answer being a lot.

Ron and Harry were already sat at the Gryffindor table when the girls arrived at their places, Ron avoiding Hermione by holding up a newspaper and pretending to read it intently. Instead of going to sit by Ron, like she usually did, Hermione slipped into the seat beside Harry, who rolled his eyes at her and began reaching for some food.

Ginny gave a huge sigh as she went round the table to sit opposite them next to Ron. 'Please, can you guys just make up already? I hate sitting next to my brother!'

'Thanks, Ginny,' Ron muttered, not looking up.

'Oh come on guys!' Ginny whined in response. 'What did my brother even do?' she said, directing her question at Hermione.

But Hermione wasn't listening. She was scouting the Slytherin table, her eyes sweeping up and down, searching for any signs of a tall, slim, blonde haired boy. However, Draco was nowhere to be seen, and Hermione had come in quite late: the room was almost full of pupils. And it wasn't as if Draco wasn't in school- he had used the Vanishing Cabinet's to transport back to Hogwarts before Hermione had. Maybe he wasn't planning on showing up, but, surely he would, or else that would raise suspicion?

Hermione shook herself angrily. Why was she worrying about Draco? She should have reported what she saw immediately, as soon as she had got back. But...she couldn't. All she could think of was that look of terror she had seen plastered on a face that was usually brimming with so much confidence. The fear that consumed a boy who pretended he had none. Just the thought of doing something so horrific as committing murder had left him looking so lost...it had shocked her. Had the scene played out in her head, Hermione would have imagined Draco leaping at a chance to prove himself to Voldemort, and to his father. He was always so proud of his pure-blood heritage. But instead she had seen him flat out refuse to do something in a situation where he had had no choice- and to refuse his father, of all people. Hermione had never thought that Lucius was so controlling of Draco, she had believed both father and son adored one and other in equal measure. Yet it certainly wasn't the case at all, not after what she'd witnessed. Did she feel sorry for him? A Slytherin pure-blood who had spent the past five years calling her filthy words and laughing in her face? She didn't know. All she knew was she couldn't just hand him over to the Ministry of Magic. And that was what would happen if she alerted the school of what she had discovered.

'Hermione!' Ginny's impatient cry jolted her from her stupor. 'Are you even listening? What are you looking around for?'

'What? Oh, nothing,' Hermione said hurriedly. Her reply was met with a couple of raised eyebrows from her friends. 'Um,' Hermione continued, looking down at the empty plate that sat in front of her, 'so, what did you say again?'

'Why are you and Ron fighting?' Ginny pressed, leaning both her elbows on the table and shaking her long, ginger hair over her shoulders in impatience. 'Or, should I just ask Harry?'

'Huh?' Harry said at the mention of his name, the forkful of food he had just lifted to his mouth hovering midway to its destination.

Ginny sighed for the umpteenth time and reached moodily for a helping of potatoes from the platter to her left. 'Unbelievable,' she cried. 'What is with everyone today? Is nobody awake? It's the first day back at school! Is no one excited, or what?'

'Not really,' Ron said, flinging his newspaper down. He rolled his shoulders back slowly, and then finally looked up, directly at Hermione, who stared back plainly. After what felt like a long time gazing at one and other, Hermione quickly looked away, as did Ron. He cleared his throat and picked up his cutlery. 'I, for one, am starving, so...' He trailed off, and plucked one of Ginny's potatoes from her plate, popping it into his mouth with a foolish grin.

'Hey,' Ginny said, glaring at her brother. Ron's eyes locked with Hermione's again, and she couldn't help it, she gave out a short laugh, all her worries forgotten for the moment. Ron looked pleased as he munched away, reaching across Ginny- who batted at him with the newspaper- to snatch up the potato platter.

He held it out to Hermione. 'Potato,' he offered, his words slurred due to the fact his mouth was still stuffed with the food.

It was Hermione's turn to bat at Ron. 'I don't think so,' she said firmly, laughing again.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. 'Yay,' he celebrated. 'Everyone's made up. Thank the lord, because I was beginning to regret coming back this year. And yes Ron,' he said with a grin, 'I'd love a potato, thanks for offering.' He reached over and took the platter from Ron, who smiled back.

Bang. The doors to the Great Hall swung open, causing practically everyone in the room to turn and stare at whoever had just made an entrance. Hermione hadn't even realised the doors had been shut- which meant the person entering was very late, considering they shut the doors once everyone was supposed to have taken their seats. She followed the gaze of everyone else, and saw none other than Draco as he came striding into the Hall.

Her happiness was short lived, as the crushing weight of everything from the previous night was back, although she had never really forgotten anything. The physical appearance of Draco was a vivid reminder that it had all been real. His head was down as he stormed over to his seat at the Slytherin table, his hands shoved into his pockets, just like they always were. But even Hermione could see how awful he looked: his skin was paler than ever, if that was even possible, with his cheeks a sickly green tinge. As he took his place besides Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle, she caught a glimpse of his eyes as he looked up to greet his friends, and they were the picture of tiredness, with big purple bruises underneath them, indicating little to no sleep. Hermione suspected the latter, and she wasn't surprised. She doubted she would be able to sleep after having been told she had to kill Dumbledore, a prospect that terrified her just as much as it must for Draco.

It was strange, knowing that only she and Draco were the ones who knew about this 'master Death Eater plan'. And that not even Draco was aware that she did. _It must be a terrible burden to bear_ , Hermione thought to herself, just as the room began to grow loud with chatter again after Draco's entrance had stunned everyone to silence. She looked to the front of the room to see Dumbledore smiling and talking to his neighbours at the head of the staff table, and then back to Draco, who was staring down at his empty plate with a look of hatred.

 _It must be horrible_ , she wondered, _to be in the same room as the person you are going to kill_. This, she couldn't keep this to herself, she decided suddenly. This wasn't her burden, and murdering the school's professor- she realised with a jolt- was a very, very big deal. Her mind whirred as she was back again to considering her options. Earlier she had vowed to herself to keep it a secret but- Draco could kill Dumbledore at any time. It could be within the week, and she was officially a witness. If she didn't tell anyone- well, that could end badly for her, and she was risking Dumbledore's life the whole time. It didn't matter that Draco was unwilling, it wasn't her problem. Her problem was the potential life she could save- the headmaster's, of all people!

'Guys,' Hermione blurted, turning back to face her friends, who were all busily stuffing their faces, while her plate still lay empty. _This is it_ , Hermione thought as everyone glanced up at her. Everyone except Ginny, who was staring wide eyed at the Daily Prophet. Hermione, not noticing this, opened her mouth to continue when Ginny spoke, cutting her off.

'Oh. My. God.' Everyone's attention- including Hermione- was now on her as her eyes flicked back and forth between the other three Gryffindors. 'Guys, you will never believe this,' she said, her eyes bulging as wide as saucers. 'You will never believe this,' she repeated.

Ron drummed his fingers on the table. 'What?' he snapped. 'You're keeping us in suspense here.'

'It's Lucius Malfoy,' she gaped, and Hermione was immediately drawn by the name. 'He's escaped from Azkaban; can you believe it? Apparently Death Eaters are doing that more often, and no one knows how.'

 _Of course_ , Hermione thought to herself. She had forgotten that last night, when she had seen Lucius. She remembered being shocked to see him, and not just because the whole experience had been shocking- but because of something she couldn't remember, and this was it! She'd read about Lucius' imprisonment at the end of last year and after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, in which she had fought alongside her friends against the likes of Lucius and other Death Eaters. 'Life sentence', the headline had read.

'I bet Malfoy over there knows how,' Ron said with disgust, jabbing his thumb towards where Draco sat at the Slytherin table. 'He's probably a bloody Death Eater himself, prancing around the place like he owns it. I bet he even helped his father escape, like a little Death Eater training exercise or something.'

'Wouldn't surprise me,' Harry agreed, the look of hatred in his eyes apparent as he followed Ron's gaze.

'Don't be stupid you guys,' Ginny butted in with a roll of her eyes. 'Draco's not a Death Eater. For one, he's too young. And they wouldn't let him into school if they thought that.'

 _Oh, if only you knew_ , Hermione thought, an image of Draco's Dark Mark floating up in her mind.

'It's _Malfoy_ , not _Draco,_ ' Ron said, sounding exasperated. 'Pathetic little ferrets don't deserve to be called by their first names. And, Ginny, I'm just surprised they would trust someone whose family are all Death Eaters, and whose father is- sorry, _was_ \- in prison for it. Kind of suspicious.'

'You know,' a voice cut in, and everyone looked round to see Seamus Finnegan leaning towards them, who was sitting a little way away from Harry. 'I heard they weren't going to let him in, but Snape fought for him to get a place this year.'

'Snape?' Ron said mutely. 'Yeah, he kisses Malfoy's ass. I've never seen a teacher so head over heels for a pupil before. I think he's in love.' Harry sniggered.

'Yeah, well,' Ginny said with a shrug. 'Oh, Hermione! What was it you were going to say again?' she asked, facing Hermione with a questioning look. Suddenly all eyes were upon her again, this time including Seamus'.

'Oh, well, I...' she started. A moment of silence passed, with everyone still waiting patiently for Hermione to talk. But, she found she couldn't. The word's tasted like acid in her mouth, and for some unknown reason, she found she couldn't say a word. She thought that, of all people, her friends would be the easiest to tell. Had she left it too late? Would they think she'd been withholding information if she told them now? Would they think she had been protecting Draco? Whatever the reason, she realised that Draco's secret was now her secret. She had no idea what she would do with it, but for now, it would go unshared. 'Um, it was nothing. Doesn't matter,' she shrugged. Then, to avoid any curious stares, she began to pile any helpings of food she could see onto her plate. 'God, I am starving though.'

* * *

 

'What am I doing?' Hermione mumbled to herself as she rushed down corridor after corridor, a big pile of books in her hands. She was returning them to the library after borrowing them for the summer, as she had felt the need to catch up on some class work she had missed in fifth year. Going to the library was also the perfect excuse to take out something new to read, and a good place for her to sit down and think. Alone. At breakfast, having her friends around had made it difficult to concentrate. With so many complicated things going on in her head, she desperately felt the need to sort it all out- without distractions and questions from anybody else.

She walked on, head down, clasping her books to her chest like a lifeline, trying not to worry too much about... everything. Which is what she would do if she thought too long about what she was doing, and what she was doing, she had no idea. Then she rounded the corner, and felt like she had just collided with a brick wall.

The books she had been holding flew from her grasp as she toppled backwards, managing to regain her footing before she completely fell over. The 'brick wall' she had hit, stumbled the other way, a hand to his face. Hermione was in disbelief. Of all the people she could have bumped into, it was Draco Malfoy she had collided with.

'Ow,' the Slytherin hissed unceremoniously, rubbing his cheek vigorously where it must have been caught by one of Hermione's books, which were quite heavy. 'Watch it...' he continued, looking up. As soon as he saw Hermione standing in front of him, his expression changed from one of anger, to shock, and then finally to a look of hatred. 'Granger?' He sounded mad, and disbelieving. 'What are _you_ doing here?'

'I'm-' Hermione began, intending to explain that she was headed towards the library, and that is was none of his business where she was going. But as she looked around, she realised that she was nowhere near the library, and actually closer to the Slytherin common room. Had she been subconsciously heading this way, or had she just been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she had lost her way and happened to end up in the place she least wanted to be... by chance? Whatever the case, there was no excuse to her being here, so instead Hermione did something ridiculously impulsive she would have regretted had she thought about it for even a split second.

Draco was still glaring at her, waiting impatiently for a response, a hand still to his face. His free arm was his left, which was hanging by his side. Hermione suddenly leapt forward, reaching for it, managing to grab it. Draco, certainly not expecting to be attacked, was unprepared. He was only just starting to pull away when Hermione twisted his arm up, yanking his sleeve down to his elbow and revealing his Dark Mark, in plain sight.

Draco stared at his exposed arm, then back at Hermione, who was still clinging to him with wide eyes, unsure of what she had just done. He spluttered slightly, before finally coming to his senses and realising what had just happened. With a cry he shoved her backwards, pulling his sleeve down hastily. Without a pause, he charged.

'Malfoy, wait!' Hermione cried just before he was on top of her, forcing her backwards against the cold stone wall of the corridor. He was bigger and stronger than her, and Hermione knew she didn't stand a change fighting Draco physically. Despite this she continued to flail and kick, trying in vain to force the body that was pressed up against her away. She could hear Draco's harsh breaths in her face as he held her in place with one hand, his other fumbling for something. His eyes were large, and Hermione knew he was panicking.

She continued to protest, slipping one hand into her robes, and feeling for her wand, also. Draco beat her to it, drawing his wand out and pressing it to her neck. 'How did you know?' he hissed, giving her a quick shake. 'Tell me.'

'Malfoy, please,' Hermione hissed back. Calm down-'

'Answer my question,' he snarled, interrupting her, pressing the wand down harder. 'Did someone tell you about this? Did you see it?' he demanded, his voice quivering.

Hermione gulped- the look on Draco's face was terrifying, and she had no idea what he was going to do. 'Please,' she said again, trying to keep her voice calm. 'I'll explain everything, but not here.'

'You can tell me now,' Draco said stubbornly. 'Don't mess with me Granger,' he warned, bringing his face even closer to hers. 'You don't understand what you're doing.'

'Just let me explain,' Hermione pleaded again. Her fingers were still grasping for her wand, but Draco's arm was pushed up against hers as he held her, trapping it. However, she could feel her fingers brushing against the wand tip. She could almost reach it...

'I have a better idea, Granger,' Draco said. 'Either you talk or I wipe your little mudblood memory clean. You won't even remember the past couple of days, let alone this ever happening. Your choice.'

Hermione gasped. 'That's _insane_. Malfoy, I promise I'll tell you everything I know, but not here. I promise you,' she blurted, trying feebly to lift herself off the wall again with little success. The look on Draco's face told her he wasn't listening to anything she was saying. He looked desperate and slightly mad as he lifted his wand to her head.

Hermione's heartbeat quickened as she began to struggle again. 'What are you doing?' she asked, even though she knew the answer. Draco was going to wipe her memory. Everything she had learnt would be gone: the Vanishing Cabinets, Borgin and Burkes, Draco's 'mission', everything.

Draco ignored her, opening his mouth to utter the incantation. 'Obli-'

'Expelliarmus,' Hermione cried before Draco could utter the fateful words. Just as he was about to wipe her memory the hand that had been grasping for her wand had finally closed around its target. She had managed to pull the wand from her robes and disarm Draco at the last second. She watched in relief as his wand flew from his grip and clattered to the floor a couple of metres from where the two stood. Draco let go of Hermione, darting for it, and releasing her from his hold. Hermione stepped away from the wall, ignoring her sore and most likely bruised back.

As soon as Draco had a hold of his wand again, he spun back towards Hermione, pointing it at her with an extended arm. Hermione mirrored his stance, feeling a lot calmer now that she was no longer in immediate danger. 'What do you say, Malfoy?' Hermione asked after a moment of silence. She kept a straight face whilst Draco made no effort to hide his hatred, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. The only clue to his anxiousness was the slight tremor in his hand as he held his wand, which was still aimed at Hermione. 'We can talk privately, and I'll explain what I know, or you can continue your attempt to commit an act of treason by attacking another pupil. Now, it's your choice,' she finished, raising an eyebrow.

'How do I know you won't tell somebody?' Draco asked furiously, shifting from one foot to another. He was nervous.

'You don't,' Hermione admitted simply. 'But I swear on my life that I won't tell anyone about this.'

'I don't believe you,' Draco said sharply, his eyes darting about. He was definitely getting more nervous the longer they were out in the corridor. It was extremely lucky that no one had walked by yet. 'Why wouldn't you tell anyone?'

'Because,' Hermione said calmly, 'I know more than you think.' Draco's brow furrowed as he processed this new information, Hermione stared meaningfully at him all the while. She lowered her wand, and after a few seconds, to her relief, so did he.

More silence passed. Then Draco spoke. One word, which sent relief washing over Hermione like a wave. 'Fine,' he said, pocketing his wand. 'I know a place. Follow me.'

And with that he began to walk away without another glance towards Hermione. He walked right past her and turned the corner- the other way from which she'd come. As he brushed past her it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, although it was obvious he was on edge as he strode ahead of her. Hermione followed, unsure of what she was doing herself, but she knew better than to start arguing with Draco. So she continued on after him, the pile of books left sprawled all over the floor, forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next one coming soon :)


	5. The Hog's Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't posted in a while, let me know if you are enjoying this story so far. In this chapter things start to heat up between Draco and Hermione, so enjoy! ;)

Draco led Hermione through corridors and archways she couldn't remember passing. But then again, it wasn't often she ventured to this side of the building. A couple of students passed by them, but not many as only the upper years had a free period. Nearly all of them were Slytherin, which made Hermione slightly uncomfortable, since they all seemed to be staring at her. She kept a good few metres between Draco and herself, so that no one would realise they were heading the same way.

Draco eventually stopped at a door set into the wall. Hermione watched as he stepped in front of the big lock visible beneath the door handle, shielding her from what he was doing. A few seconds later, there was a click, and the door swung open. Draco disappeared inside, not checking to see if Hermione was following. She did, slipping through the door after him before it closed. Once inside she was met with a staircase that spiralled upwards, presumably right to the top of the tower.

Hermione sighed, hitching up her robes and continuing up after the sound of Draco's echoing footsteps against the cold stone steps. 'Did you break in?' she called up after him.

There was a long pause, and Hermione wondered if Draco had actually heard her question, or if he was just going to ignore her. But then, he spoke. 'No,' he called down, sounding slightly fed up. 'I have a key.'

'You have a key?' Hermione repeated with a disbelieving tone.

'Yeah,' Draco said. 'I stole it from Filch. You going to report me for that?'

'No,' Hermione said back, before the two lapsed again into silence. In her opinion, it didn't look like Filch came up here much anyway. The sconces that lined the circular walls were empty and covered in thick coatings of dust, stringy cobwebs hanging limply from their bodies. It grew colder the higher Hermione climbed, causing her to wrap her Gryffindor cloak tightly around her shoulders in order to keep warm.

It took a good couple of minutes to climb the stairs, and once Hermione reached the top she found herself feeling quite dizzy. The stairs ended at another door, which Draco had already opened, probably with the same key. He'd left it wide open for her, and as she walked through it she found herself emerging into a wide circular room that was completely bare. The cold air came from the number of arched windows in the wall, all of which contained no glass and were covered only by a pair of metal bars. They were quite small windows; however, that didn't stop the icy gusts of wind that blew into the room, sending dust balls scattering across the bare wooden boards.

Draco was leaning against the far wall, one foot pressed up against it, his arms folded. He looked impatient.

'You stole a key to this place?' Hermione questioned him with distaste. She supposed it was nice and private- no one would ever come here, that was for sure. But why would you feel the need for a place like this?

'What do you know?' Draco asked bluntly, ignoring Hermione's question and glaring at her from behind a fringe of white hair that had fallen over his eyes. He brushed it back with irritation.

'Ok,' Hermione said slowly. 'I'll tell you.'

And she did. She started from the beginning, from when she'd seen Draco in the corridor the night before. She explained how she'd followed him to the Room of Requirement, and how she'd also discovered the Vanishing Cabinets. She then went on to talk about how she'd ended up in Borgin and Burkes, and hidden herself when she'd heard voices- the voices of Lucius Malfoy and Draco himself.

'I saw it all happen,' she explained, keeping her eyes warily on Draco to see how he'd react. This was the part that she was least looking forward to sharing. She was impressed with him so far, as he hadn't interrupted her once, although he had been looking down at the floor the whole time whilst biting his lip. Probably trying hard _not_ to interrupt.

He looked up as she said this though. 'You mean you heard everything my farther said to me?' he asked, looking directly at Hermione, his expression one she couldn't place.

'Yes,' Hermione confessed. 'Every word from the moment you came down the stairs at the back of the shop.'

'So...,' Draco said, shifting to clasp his hands tightly in front of him. Hermione tugged nervously on a stand of her curly brown hair. The tension in the room was almost unbearable. 'You know what I have to do?'

'Yes,' Hermione answered with a short nod, her voice barely a whisper.

Draco stayed silent for a long time, his forehead creased in concentration, while Hermione stayed where she stood uncertainly in the centre of the room. She felt very uncomfortable; because she could see every emotion Draco was experiencing displayed clearly on his features and in his body language- and this was a boy she barely knew. A boy she hated. 'I don't understand,' Draco finally said, looking at her again.

'What?' Hermione breathed, her voice hoarse. She was getting nervous now.

'Why you won't tell anyone,' he said. Then he narrowed his eyes. 'Or will you?'

'No,' Hermione said firmly, drawing another surprised look from Draco. 'I promised.'

'Yeah, but why?' Draco pressed. 'I'm a Slytherin, and you're a Gryffindor,' he said with distaste, pointing first to himself and then at Hermione. 'It seems like the obvious thing for you to go and tell your little Gryffindor buddies about the evil Slytherin who's going to murder your beloved headmaster,' he continued, his voice rising as he spoke.

'You're not evil,' Hermione said suddenly, surprising herself as well as Draco, who gave her a questioning look. She had sounded...sincere, to her own ears, as if she really believed her own words.

'Yeah,' Draco scoffed. Clearly even he didn't believe that, which was an odd thing, again, for Hermione to see. Surely every Slytherin believed what they were doing- whatever it was- was the right thing? Or maybe there was more to Draco than she had ever thought possible.

'You're not,' Hermione repeated. 'Malfoy, listen. I didn't just hear everything. I saw things too. Your father-'

'That's enough,' Draco spat, interrupting her. He was glaring at her again, and Hermione new why. She had been about to say that his father had hit him, which was by all means a sensitive topic of discussion. Behind the glare, she thought she could see a hint of embarrassment amongst the Slytherin's conflicting emotions.

'Ok, ok,' Hermione said, holding her hands up in defence. 'But you know what I mean. I know you don't want to do this.' She paused for a moment, and then said something impulsive that she would, again, most likely regret. She was doing a lot of impulsive things lately. First, revealing Draco's Dark Mark, and now... 'I can help you.'

'What?' Draco asked in genuine shock.

'I'm the only other person in the entire school who knows about this, right?' Hermione asked. Draco nodded. 'So maybe you need someone to talk to about it. I... could help you stop it.'

At this, Draco let out a bark of laughter, a reaction Hermione was certainly not expecting. 'You're going to help me are you?' Draco said smugly. 'Granger, you don't know the first thing about me. And about stopping it from happening- you can't. What were you planning on doing anyway?'

'I don't know,' Hermione replied angrily, folding her arms. 'But what I wasn't planning was to sit about doing nothing. Not when I know all this,' she gestured wildly with one hand. 'That's something we could talk about.'

'We?' Draco laughed again. 'Granger there is no 'we'. Me and you working together? That's just never going to happen.'

'It's not like we have another option, Malfoy' Hermione spat back.

'I could always wipe your memory,' Draco threatened. 'Or I could report you to the Death Eaters. I'm sure they would know what to do with you.'

'We both know that's a bad idea!' Hermione argued. She was getting fed up of Draco refusing every offer she made. They had what they had to work with, and he was just turning it into a fight between two common enemies. She needed him to see the bigger picture. 'If you report me to your Death Eater clan, don't you think they'd punish you too? After all, you practically _let_ me follow you. And a memory charm? Don't you think my friends would notice if I suddenly forgot everything from the past couple of days? Don't you think they'd get suspicious? And then you'd have something else to worry about.' Hermione was practically shouting now.

Draco held up a hand to silence her. 'Ok, ok, Granger, you've made your point,' he snapped back.

'No, Malfoy, I haven't,' Hermione yelled. 'Don't you see; this isn't about us? It isn't about our petty differences or our hatred for one another; because you've made it very clear that you despise me.'

'And vice versa,' Draco muttered.

Hermione scowled. 'You can either work with me, and we can stop something from happening that _I know_ you don't want to happen, or I'll do it myself, no matter what you think. That's my offer.'

Draco matched her expression with a similar scowl. 'Fine. Fine! But I'm trusting you, Granger. Don't tell anybody about this. And I mean _anybody_.'

'Same to you,' Hermione said. 'Remember I'm trusting you as well, Malfoy.'

'Fine,' Draco repeated. He paused, staring thoughtfully at Hermione, chewing his lip, all the while keeping an unpleasant scowl on his face. It looked as if he were about to say something, but then he appeared to decide against it. During their argument, he had come a few paces away from the wall he had been leaning on, but now he retreating back to slouch against it. 'You should go down first,' he said, pointing to the staircase behind Hermione. 'I'll follow a few minutes after, so it doesn't look like we've been together.' He said the word 'together' as if he were a child talking about broccoli, but Hermione ignored his disgusted tone.

'Ok,' she said, before heading to the doorway. She turned back to the room slightly once she had reached the doorway, very much aware of Draco's scrutinising gaze, contemplating whether or not she should say something else, but she had nothing else to say. Instead, she began her descent back down the spiral staircase. She supposed she'd be speaking to Draco again shortly, although how shortly she had no idea.

* * *

It turned out their next encounter would be sooner than either one had anticipated. The next day- a Tuesday- was the second day of the sixth year Curriculum. The afternoon class on the timetable was Herbology, but due to the fact Professor Sprout was missing various essential potions and tools, plus the fact it had recently been her birthday, she was allowing the class on a trip down to Hogsmeade for the afternoon. Their only orders were to buy a list of products from Dogweed and Deathcap, the Herbology shop, but other than that they had free reign.

'I don't believe this,' Ron exclaimed as he, Harry and Hermione walked in a row along Hogsmeade's main street, their Dogweed and Deathcap products already purchased and stuffed into Harry's rucksack that he had brought along. 'It's our second day back and I've literally had no lessons yet! It's amazing.'

'Don't worry Ron, in a week or two you'll be up to your neck in coursework. Did you know N.E. require over double the amount of additional assignments and weekly examinations in certain subjects?' Hermione asked, causing Ron's elated expression to crumble.

'Yeah, well, I'm just going to enjoy a blissful first week if you don't mind, Miss Know-it-all,' he shot back.

Hermione turned on Ron. 'Really?' she cried. 'This again.'

'Guys, please,' Harry interrupted, rolling his eyes (something he had become very used to doing). 'Can we enjoy one pleasant afternoon where you two don't argue, and we just get some drinks and relax, because it's a nice, sunny day, and we've got nothing to worry about...' he trailed off, looking at his friends with pleading eyes.

'Whatever,' Ron said; at the same time Hermione said 'Yes, lets.' Both looked at each other, but made no comment, although Hermione didn't agree with the fact she had nothing to worry about. If only they knew...

'That's better,' Harry said with a smile, catching the look Hermione and Ron gave each other when they spoke at the same time. Hermione assumed he was only pleased they didn't start at each other again.

The three carried on walking a while, before coming to a halt in front of the Three Broomsticks Inn. There was a steady flow of customers- locals and Herbology students alike- coming in and out of the front door, and through the windows it was clearly packed inside: there were people everywhere.

'Let's go in and buy a Butterbeer or something,' Harry suggested, pointing to the entranceway.

'Actually, I'm feeling like a Firewhiskey,' Ron answered, already beginning to dig into his pockets for his wallet.

'Um, it's a little crowded,' Hermione piped up, but Ron and Harry were already shouldering their way through the crowds to the front door. Hermione was about to follow them inside, reluctantly, when she felt a hand in her pocket. She spun to see Draco standing directly behind her. He gestured with his eyes to her cloak pocket, before spinning and disappearing into the folds of people as quickly as he had appeared.

Hermione blinked but he was already gone. Surprised, she reached into her robes and drew out a folded piece of parchment that had been slipped into one of her pockets. Quickly, she unfolded it to see two words scrawled in loopy handwriting on the page:

_Hog's Head_

So Draco wanted to meet her at the Hog's Head Inn, a dingy little pub owned by none other than Dumbledore's younger brother, Aberforth, although he was rarely sighted there. Hermione supposed it was quiet there, perfect for a secret meeting. She stared at the parchment for a while, then she quickly scrunched it up and shoved it back into her pocket, looking around to see if anyone had noticed the exchange. But no one even glanced in her direction. She looked back to the Three Broomsticks, and if she squinted she could just make out the retreating figures of Ron and Harry as they made their way to the back of the inn. They hadn't even noticed she was missing. On another day she might have been slightly offended, but right now it was just what she needed.

Without another look back, she began to walk away from the inn, leaving behind her the hordes of jeering people and the usual hustle of a crowded pub on a busy day. The Hog's Head Inn was located down one of the quieter side streets, right at the edge of the village. Unsurprisingly, Hermione didn't encounter a single soul once she'd made it off the main street. In barely any time at all she had made her way to a rather battered looking building with a blackened, rotting front porch and a tatty sign hanging above it consisting of a menacing painting of a pig baring its teeth and the words 'Hog's Head' in faded gold script.

Hermione shivered, suddenly feeling a little cold. She could see only blackness creeping under the front door, which was slightly ajar, and the two windows either side were boarded up. If she hadn't known otherwise, she would have assumed the place was closed. Unwillingly, she stepped inside. The interior was no better, comprising of one small, dirty room, with very little light. The bay windows that lined the walls were so encrusted in filth you could barely see through them, and the rough wooden tables were all bare except for the odd few containing the stubs of candles on their surfaces. The floor was made of stone, and was smothered in so much grime it looked as if there was no floor at all, but instead that the building was simply built on open ground.

There were only two customers. One was a masked figure who sat at one of the tables nearest the bar, their hood down, shadowing their face from view. They sat unmoving, and Hermione, still in the doorway, tried without much success to ignore their unnerving presence. The second customer was Draco. He was sat at a table by one of the windows in the back right corner of the room. He had removed his cloak, which was hanging on the back of his chair, and had rolled up the right sleeve only of his black knitted jumper. He was slouched against the chair's backrest, on hand on one knee, and one hand spinning a single galleon atop the table surface. When the door slammed behind Hermione, he looked up, and beckoned her over.

Hermione hurried to take the seat opposite him, sitting down hastily and drawing her cloak around her. She didn't understand how Draco could have taken his off- it was freezing.

'I can't believe I'm really doing this,' Draco said as soon as she was sat down.

'What? Meeting with a Gryffindor?' Hermione asked, 'because I never expected to be meeting up with a Slytherin, either.'

Draco let out a short laugh at this, although it was missing any hint of humour. 'Yeah, well, there's a firs time for everything, huh.'

Hermione almost smiled. She couldn't believe what she was witnessing. Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin pure-blood, was making small talk. And he hadn't glared or scowled at her yet. His expression was oddly blank, but it was progress. She leaned forwards slightly, placing her elbows on the table. 'So, why did you ask to meet me here?'

'I... wanted to tell you that I think you're right,' Draco answered, without meeting her eyes.

It was Hermione's turn to laugh. 'Well, I never thought I'd hear a Slytherin say that, that's for sure. Right about what?'

'Yesterday, when you said we should put aside our differences,' Draco continued, still refusing to look up. He had now moved from spinning the coin to tugging on a loose thread on his left sleeve. 'It turns out I do need someone to talk to. I don't think I can stand keeping this to myself any longer. My friends, none of them are even,' he lowered his voice to a whisper, ' _Death Eaters_. I'm the only one. None of them have any idea what's going on, or what I'm going through.' He shook his head in disbelief, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 'I still can't believe I'm pouring my heart out to a Gryffindor. And to you, Granger, of all people.'

Hermione sighed. 'Yeah, well, try not to think about it,' she said. 'This is kind of an odd situation for me too. But I get that this must be hard for you. I know it's a horrible burden to bear, you must understand that.'

'I do,' Draco insisted. 'What I don't understand is why you're doing this. You haven't even told your friends: Potter and Weasley, I thought you guys were inseparable.'

'I promised, didn't I?' Hermione said in earnest. 'And if I told them now...well, Ron would overreact and Harry wouldn't understand...,' she laughed again. 'Look at me, now I'm pouring my heart out to you, Malfoy.'

This time Draco managed a full smile, if only for a few seconds. 'Looks to be that way, Granger.'

'Well, well, well,' a voice croaked. Draco and Hermione both looked up at the same time to see a scraggly old woman in a murky apron looking down on them, wiring grey hair swept wildly from her face. When she spoke again she smiled, showing a mouth full of yellowing teeth, a couple of them missing. 'A Slytherin,' she said, pointing to Draco's tie poking from his sweater, 'and a Gryffindor,' she pointed to the red badge on Hermione's robes. 'How unusual...oh, let me guess- forbidden romance?'

Hermione glanced at Draco, suddenly realising how close they were. Their faces were inches apart- they must have gradually leaned closer as they spoke. Draco seemed to realise this just as Hermione did, as they both sprang backwards at the same time. The strange women cackled hideously.

'Aw,' she exclaimed. 'Have I intruded on something?'

Draco scowled, his face clouding over with hatred. 'What do you want?' he snapped, obviously unhappy with this woman's accusations.

'I'm here to take your order,' the women said with a smile, placing her hands on her hips.

Draco, still scowling, looked up to meet her gaze. 'I'll have a Butterbeer.'

'You'll have a Butterbeer _please_ ,' the woman corrected him in her hoarse voice, letting out another cackle.

Draco's scowl deepened. He reached for his pockets and drew out a galleon and a couple of sickles. 'Here's your money,' he muttered, shoving the coins under her chin.

The woman finally stopped smiling; scowling back she grabbed the money. 'And you?' she asked gruffly, turning to Hermione.

Hermione gave her the same amount. 'The same please,' she said apprehensively.

'Coming right up,' the woman said, backing off without another word.

Hermione turned back to Draco, but he was leaning away from her again, his head turned to the window. From his hunched shoulders and tight expression, Hermione concluded that he was done talking for the moment. He was back to the usual Draco Malfoy she knew so well. The two sat in silence as they waited for their drinks to arrive. Eventually, the grey-haired woman returned, carrying with her two glasses full to the brim with the golden liquid. She set the drinks down and walked off silently, which Hermione was grateful for.

She began drinking her Butterbeer in tiny sips, whereas Draco didn't touch his. The silence finally grew too much for Hermione, who cleared her throat. 'Are you going to drink that?' she blurted. Draco shrugged in response, his head still turned to the window. Hermione grew even more agitated. 'Do you have anything else you want to say to me?'

Draco brought his hand up to his lips, biting his nails slightly. 'Maybe you should leave,' he said quietly.

Hermione stared for a moment. Draco had invited her here to send her away? They hadn't discussed anything to do with his Death Eater mission. All he'd managed to do was tell her he agreed with her and then ordered a Butterbeer before shutting her off again. If they were ever to meet again in the future, she hoped it wouldn't end like this. With an angry sigh she stood up abruptly, her chair scraping back with an ear-splitting screech. 'Maybe I should,' she said, before turning on her heel and storming out the door.

As she made her way back through the streets, she supposed the meeting could have been worse. At first, Draco had been surprisingly open, which meant that somewhere inside him was a part willing to let loose a little and trust someone else. However, for now, she could tell he still didn't fully trust her. He was unwilling to 'pour his heart out'- as he'd so put- about what he was going through. Hermione had to remind herself of the weight on his shoulders. He had to kill someone. Even though she was trying to, she knew she could never fully understand what that was like. Talking to her meant that Draco was betraying his father, the Death Eaters, and also Voldemort himself. Hermione imagined that was another reason he had to keep everything bottled up. Not only was he risking his life by allowing her to know this, her life was also on the line.

Strangely, Hermione was not fazed at all by this fact. She had no idea in the slightest how she or Draco could stop this from happening. If Draco didn't kill Dumbledore, the Death Eaters would surely know about it, and from there, she didn't know what they would do. But for the time being, all she wanted was to take some of the weight off his shoulders. She was surprised at herself for this- for wanting to help her enemy. Draco Malfoy of all people. But she kept remembering his face, the look of horror as his father told him that no matter what, he would kill Dumbledore. He would be taking a life, whether he liked it or not. And that's what would keep her trying. For no one deserved to suffer in that way, and if she was the only one who knew about it, then she was the only one who could help.


	6. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Sorry for the long wait, I've been pretty busy lately, but I won't bore you with any lame excuses. Hope you enjoy the chapter! :)

'So let me get this straight.' Ginny Weasley was propped up on one arm; her legs sprawled out behind her as she laid on one of the grassy slopes in the Hogwarts grounds. She and Hermione were both sat outside, basking in the glorious September sunshine on their first weekend back at school. Hermione had finished the lengthy essay she had needed to write for her Ancient Runes class on Friday evening, so luckily she had a free weekend. Ginny, on the other hand, had a number of incomplete homework that she had received throughout the week, but in her opinion procrastination in the form of sunbathing was far more beneficial than being cooped up studying in her dorm.

For the past half an hour, all Ginny had been talking about was how Ron and Hermione had managed to fall out...again. This time it was pretty serious, as the two hadn't spoken to each other since Tuesday, the day Hermione slipped off to have her secret meeting with Draco. Although Ron, or any of her friends for that matter, didn't know where she had gone, that didn't stop him from being mad. The fact Hermione could not come up with a good excuse for disappearing on their trip to Hogsmeade made it much worse.

'Let me get this straight,' Ginny said again. 'You told Ron some old bat managed to drag you into Gladrags Wizardwear for a scarf knitting session outside the Three Broomsticks. Hermione, Gladrags is nowhere near the Three Broomsticks!'

'I know,' Hermione said, exasperated. She wondered when her interrogation would end- first Ron (although his methods were more brutal involving shouting and throwing cushions) and now his little sister. 'She was marching up and down the street asking for volunteers. She was so talkative...I didn't even know what happened and then I was in the shop.'

Ginny laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. 'I don't believe you.'

'I swear it's true!' Hermione said, cringing. She hated having to lie.

Ginny laughed again, but she didn't sound angry in the slightest. 'Hermione, you've always been a bad liar. But don't worry, unlike Ron, I don't care what you were doing. I have my suspicions,' she said, wiggling her eyebrows, and receiving a friendly punch on the arm from Hermione, 'but as long as you're lying for a good reason, I won't pry.'

Hermione sighed. She supposed this was as good as it was going to get: you couldn't fool Ginny. 'Thanks, Ginny,' she said with a slight smile. 'I really do appreciate this.'

'That's ok,' Ginny grinned back. 'It's what friends are for, right?'

Hermione bit her lip. If only she knew. 'Right,' she confirmed with a curt nod.

'Hermione,' came a shout from behind. Hermione recognised the voice immediately- it was Harry. Both she and Ginny turned to look over their shoulders' at the dark haired figure running towards them. Harry skidded to a stop a metre away, pointing wildly back towards the school, panting heavily.

'Hey Harry,' Ginny greeted with a smirk, looking the gangly wizard up and down with prying eyes. It was a well-known fact that Ginny was into Harry- everyone but Ron and Harry himself knew it.

Harry gulped, trying to catch his breath. 'Um...hey, Ginny,' he said nervously. He'd never been very good with girls. It was well known that he liked Ginny, too. Well, Hermione had a suspicion, anyhow.

'Harry,' Hermione snapped impatiently, clicking her fingers to get his attention. Harry's focus eventually wandered to her. 'What do you want?'

'Oh, yeah,' Harry breathed, as if a light bulb had just flickered on in his head. Ginny sighed. 'Ron refused to come and tell you- you have a prefects meeting...in McGonagall's office.'

'When?'

'Oh...now.'

'Christ,' Hermione cried, leaping to her feet at his words. 'Oh, I've never been late before,' she complained, scooping up the pink hoodie she had been lying on. 'I blame you Ginny,' she said with false accusation. 'You distract me.'

Ginny batted her eyelashes. 'My pleasure,' she said. 'I'm just shaping the new and improved, rebellious, bad-ass Hermione.'

'Seriously?' Hermione retorted as she began her ascent up the hill and back to the school. Harry tuned to follow her but Hermione placed a hand on his chest, stopping him. 'Keep her company,' she commanded, nodding to Ginny, who gave her a thumbs up behind Harry's back. Without another word, Hermione turned and ran.

She'd practically memorised the route to McGonagall's office, which was on the first floor in the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower overlooking the Training Grounds, so she found herself outside the door in a matter of minutes. Cautiously, she knocked three times.

'Come in,' came McGonagall's sharp voice from inside. Hermione opened the door to reveal McGonagall sat at her desk, wearing her usually emerald green cloak, her hair scraped back in a tight bun, her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She looked exasperated. 'Miss Granger, you're late, which is not like you at all.'

'I'm sorry, Professor, it won't happen again,' Hermione replied, neglecting the fact she had not been informed of the meeting. There was no point answering back when it was McGonagall you were talking to.

In answer to Hermione's apology, McGonagall gave a slight nod and a small- but visible- smile in her direction. 'Please,' she said calmly. 'Take a seat.' She gestured to the row of chairs sat opposite her desk, and for the first time Hermione saw all the other prefects sat in them, twisted around in their seats to stare at her. And there was only one seat empty- one right between Draco and Ron.

Hermione almost turned and left the room right there and then. Both Ron and Draco hadn't spoken to her since Tuesday, and both conversations had ended badly. She hadn't even _seen_ Draco since then, up until now. He hadn't been showing up to the meals in the Great Hall. Even now, the two of them were the only two not turning to face her. As she went to sit down, Hermione saw from Ron's expression that he was angry, staring stonily at the floor. Draco, on the other hand, only appeared to be wrapped up in thought, staring out past McGonagall's head whilst biting his nails, a gesture she noticed he did quite a lot when he was thinking.

Hermione took her seat in silence. This time, throughout the meeting, she tried her best to pay attention to what was being said. She made sure she noted the time and date of the next one, and when it was her turn to patrol the corridors at curfew. Despite this, she still found herself distracted by the tension she could feel emitting from the boys either side of her.

It was strange having a prefect meeting on a weekend, as everyone was in their own clothes. For some reason, Hermione found herself drawn to Draco. Maybe it was because she couldn't recall ever seeing him on weekends, and therefore in non-uniform. Whatever it was, she found her eyes kept sliding towards him. He was sat in his usual position: slouched lazily against the back of his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. One arm was crossed over his chest, the other slightly lifted as his continued to bite the ends of his spidery fingers. He wore a simple black turtleneck sweater and dark grey, faded jeans with tattered sneakers. Hermione wasn't in the least bit surprised that he was wearing a jumper of such a warm day- he would never wear anything with short sleeves for obvious reasons, unlike Ron on her other side, who sported an alarmingly bright stripy t-shirt. Hermione was surprised to find she quite liked what Draco was wearing. She thought it suited him, and she also found that she didn't feel as queasy when she looked at his complexion. On closer inspection, she saw that his fringe was slightly wavier today, and she wondered if it was naturally like that.

 _What am I doing?_ she scolded herself. _Admiring Draco Malfoy? Whatever next?_ The thought was almost unbearable.

'...and that concludes our meeting,' McGonagall's voice came back to focus just as everyone began to stand up and gather their things. Hermione couldn't believe herself- she'd drifted off again. She couldn't for the life of her remember the last god-knows-how-many minutes of the meeting. She was angry at herself- she could have missed something important, for all she knew!

'Miss Granger?' McGonagall asked as Ron and Draco, the first to leave, banged out the door.

'Yes?' Hermione said. By the time she'd picked up her quill, parchment and jumper and answered McGonagall she realised that she was the last prefect in the office. Everyone else had left rather quickly, unusually.

'Could I have a word?' inquired McGonagall, beckoning her closer.

Hermione was startled. _What could this be about?_ Her heart picked up speed as she suddenly thought of something. What if McGonagall knew about Draco, and was curious as to why Hermione hadn't noted the authorities? What if she knew something, anything? What if she was on to her? 'Why, yes, of course,' Hermione stammered, shuffling closer to the desk.

'Is everything alright?' McGonagall asked, staring at Hermione with a wise and meaningful expression.

Hermione's heart fluttered with relief. It appeared she had overreacted: McGonagall hadn't mentioned anything to do with Draco. 'Yes,' she said quickly. 'Why wouldn't it be?'

'Well, you have been late to every prefect meeting so far. I know it's not like you, Miss Granger,' McGonagall explained, keeping her eyes trained on Hermione as the Gryffindor tried to took everywhere else but the Professor, whose eyes were very scrutinising.

'I know, Professor, I'm sorry. Nothing's wrong, I promise,' Hermione spoke again, grasping that she probably didn't sound very convincing. She thought briefly about making up some excuse, but then she remembered Ginny telling her how bad of a liar she was, and McGonagall was even better at sniffing out the truth than her friend. Instead, she opted to deny anything was wrong. It apparently worked.

'Well, alright then,' McGonagall said slowly. 'But if you want to talk about anything, I'll be in my office,' she finished with a fond smile that made Hermione feel even worse about herself.

'Ok,' she said, trying her best to smile back. 'Thanks, Professor,' she added, before slipping out of the office.

She almost dropped all her belongings when she saw that Draco was waiting for her outside.

'You took your time,' he said with a wry smile.

Hermione didn't know what to say back. Should she smile or frown? Should she be angry? She didn't know, so she just stood there.

'Look,' Draco said, when she didn't speak. 'I'm sorry about Tuesday. Could we… meet in the tower in, say, 10 minutes?' He looked nervous, which was a first.

'What tower?' Hermione said stupidly, just as she remembered the room she and Draco had met in on Monday, the one he had unlocked with the stolen key. 'Oh, right, never mind,' she said before he could tell her.

At this she saw the corner of his mouth turn up slightly, his usually dull grey eyes sparking faintly. He was trying not to laugh. 'Well...?' he asked, tapping his foot.

Hermione mentally shook herself. 'Ok,' she agreed. 'Ten minutes, although it might be a little longer if I can't find it.'

'You have a good memory, you'll be fine' Draco said, before walking off. Hermione's mouth fell open. Did Draco just give her a compliment? This really was the day for firsts. She supposed she was just surprised he was even speaking to her. Shaking her head, she began striding off in the opposite direction, planning to drop off her things and then try to make her way to the meeting point. As she walked away, she remained unaware of Ron, who was watching her retreating figure from behind one of the pillars against the opposite wall to McGonagall's office. And he did not look happy.

* * *

Hermione was pleased with herself. It was around 10 minutes since she had spoken with Draco, and she now found herself stood outside the door to the tower she remembered from her first meeting with him. It hadn't taken her that long to find it- all she had to do was head towards the Slytherin common room way and retrace her steps from there. Sadly, she hadn't found the books she had dropped that day, which were still missing. Hopefully someone had returned them or Madam Prince would not be pleased with her: she never forgave a student who lost one of her precious books. Rolling her shoulders back in an effort to relax herself, Hermione looked left and right to check the coast was clear before trying the door, which was open. Relieved, she entered and immediately began climbing the stairs.

If this tower room became their regular meeting point- if she and Draco were to have 'regular meetings'- one thing was for sure: she would be getting a good workout from climbing the spiral stairs that led to the room, for they seemed to be never-ending! By the time she reached the top she was panting quite heavily, and feeling very warm.

Draco was stood by one of the many barred windows, hands stuffed in his jean pockets, looking out over a view of the hills that surrounded the castle. 'It's beautiful, isn't it?' Hermione said, announcing herself. She made her way to his side, also taking in the scene.

'Yeah,' Draco sighed wistfully. He turned to Hermione. 'I see you made it. I, um, brought you some stuff,' he said, pointing over her shoulder. Hermione spun to see that Draco had brought up two chairs, which he had placed against the wall, and on one of the chairs he had stacked a pile of books- her books, the ones she had dropped when they'd bumped into each other.

Hermione beamed, she couldn't help it. 'I wondered where they'd gone.' She looked at Draco. 'Thanks, Malfoy, you just saved me from the wrath of Madam Prince.'

Draco smirked. 'No problem, Granger.'

'So...' Hermione began. 'Do we sit on the chairs? Please don't say you were planning a re-enactment of Tuesday.'

Draco flushed- something Hermione thought she would never see. It was odd seeing colour painted on his stark white cheeks. He rushed over to the chairs, handing the books to Hermione, and drawing them out towards the centre of the room so that they were facing each other. 'Yeah,' he said. 'We sit.'

Hermione obliged, taking a seat opposite Draco. 'Listen,' Draco continued, pulling at the selves of his sweater hesitantly. Hermione had to admit she enjoyed seeing his nervous gestures: the nail biting, the fiddling. They humanised the Slytherin. 'I'm... sorry about Tuesday. I got freaked out when that bitch of a waitress saw us together. I don't know what-'

'Malfoy, stop,' Hermione said firmly, sitting back and folding her arms. 'I get it. We've hated each other since the day we met. I'm not expecting you to suddenly start confiding in me willingly. You can take your time, I'll be patient.'

'Yeah, well, I overreacted,' Draco insisted. 'It won't happen again. I truly am sorry.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. Draco frowned. 'I'm just impressed you apologised to me,' she said with a light tone to his unanswered question. 'It's like Christmas came early.'

'So you're not mad?' Draco questioned.

'No,' Hermione confirmed.

'How are you so nice?' he asked in mock amazement, running a hand through his tousled hair as if he was genuinely confused.

Hermione laughed. Draco had a funny side? She thought the only humour he knew would be making fun of first years and abusing his prefect duties. 'It's a Gryffindor thing,' she said. 'God, that waitress was a bitch though. Did you see her hair? Major disaster.'

'I don't know much about girls' hairstyles, but I can tell when someone looks hideous. Her hair was frizzier than yours!' Draco laughed back.

'Oi!' Hermione cried. 'I know my hair is a little out of control but no need to be harsh.'

'It's a Slytherin thing,' Draco said with a shrug. 'It is weird though,' he continued, all of a sudden becoming more serious. Hermione stopped laughing abruptly. 'How different our lives are. Gryffindors are always so happy and full of life. Slytherins are all dark and subdued, and I used to love that about being a Slytherin, but these days it all feels...I don't know. Pointless. All we do is cause people misery.'

'That's not true,' Hermione said, although she wasn't sure if she believed herself when she said it. 'Haven't you seen the movies? Dark and mysterious- that's the thing right? You've got to love a bit of danger,' she added, trying to lighten the tone. She didn't know why she was trying to make Draco feel better; after all, all he had done _was_ cause her misery throughout the years at Hogwarts. Yet she wanted to comfort him. Her enemy. And she didn't know why.

Draco laughed sharply. 'Yeah,' he muttered. 'The movies aren't real. And if you're on about that boy who's always dark and enticing- I don't feel that way. I'm not that kind of guy. I just feel cruel, and lately... I guess I'm getting fed up of myself, and this- this persona I have. I'm downright cruel. You've said it yourself! And Slytherins don't have any fun- our jokes are about other people's misfortune, not things that are actually funny.' He sighed dramatically.

'Maybe...' Hermione said slowly, 'it's your own misfortune that made you realise all this? I mean never in a million years did I think I'd be hearing you say you don't like being a Slytherin.'

'What I don't like is being a Death Eater,' Draco said angrily. 'Look,' he pulled up his left sleeve with a violent tug, revealing his Dark Mark. Hermione gaped, and it wasn't just because of the inky black symbol upon his forearm, it was because of all the tiny little scars visible all over his skin. She hadn't noticed them when she'd first seen his mark.

Without thinking, she reached out to run her fingertips lightly over the puckered skin, tracing the lines of every cut. All she could hear was Draco breathing close to her ear, and her own breaths as they grew louder and more uneven. Draco shivered- a movement that shook her to her senses. She pulled back quickly, tucking the brown curls that had fallen loose back behind her ears.

'Um,' she stuttered, not sure what had just happened. When she finally looked up at Draco, she saw that he looked as confused as she did. He drew his sleeve back down slowly. 'Um,' Hermione said again. 'How did you get those?'

'Remember that night in Borgin and Burkes?' Draco said quietly.

'Yeah.'

'Well, when my farther fired that curse at me and shattered all that glass...' Draco trailed off, his eyes wandering to his feet.

'You didn't heal yourself?' Hermione asked in surprise. She definitely remembered that little scene she had witnessed when Lucius had taken his anger out on Draco. It was one of her most vivid memories, one that had really opened her eyes to what was going on.

'No, I tried,' Draco confessed, rubbing his arm subconsciously as he recalled the memory himself. 'But the curse he fired, I don't think it was meant to necessarily hit me. I think it was meant to stop me from healing. I think when it hit the glass... I don't know...'

'Clever,' Hermione admitted sadly. 'Has your father always been like that?' she asked after a brief pause.

Draco's response to her question was quick. 'Yes,' he told her. 'Whenever I did something wrong he'd get mad. At first, it made me more like him. I was angry, and I took that anger out on others. He told me that I had expectations to live up to, as a pure-blood, and that I had to be punished...'

'That's horrible,' Hermione cut in, her voice cracking slightly. She cleared her throat.

'He told us we were better than other magic folk like muggle-borns,' he said, looking anxiously at Hermione as he spoke.

She smiled back at him sadly, to show she wasn't offended. Maybe she should have been, but she wasn't. 'I bet he taught you to call us mudbloods,' she whispered.

Draco nodded, biting his lip. 'And I agreed with him. I thought I was better than you. I thought who you were made you impure and filthy. I thought, I thought...' he trailed off again, putting his head in his hands, his white blonde hair falling forwards.

'You don't think that now?' Hermione asked, her voice so low it was barely audible.

Draco shook his head again. 'Over the past summer, things started to get worse,' he said, his voice muffled by his hands. 'Father was putting more pressure on me, ever since he forced me to become a Death Eater. Officially.'

'He forced you?' Hermione asked.

Draco laughed; but the sound was like nails on a chalk board to Hermione's ears. 'It's not like I ever had a choice. From the day I was born... and I wanted to become one, for such a long time. But back then, I never truly knew what I was doing. I just wanted to make my father proud- I admired him. When I realised what it was really like, well, by then it was too late.' Draco's expression suddenly changed from one of sorrow to one of anger. With a grunt he pushed back from his chair, standing up and beginning to pace with hurried steps. Hermione stood with him.

'Why is it too late?' she asked with curiosity, taking a step towards the riled-up boy pacing in front of her.

'Because this,' he said, tapping his sleeve, 'binds me to the Dark Lord- it means I can never go back. Never. Whatever I do from this point forth he will know about. I am his slave, and he can bend me to his will. If I was to betray him, well...' Draco paused, an emotionless smile on his face. 'I'm easily disposable. I'd be dead before I knew it,' he said with disgust.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, feeling very unhelpful and very out of her depth. 'You can't remove it?'

'No,' Draco said sadly. 'It's like a brand. Permanent.' He stopped pacing, and lifted his head to meet Hermione's eyes.

She blinked rapidly, an odd sensation of rushing heat washing over her. Her emotions were in turmoil. 'I'm sorry,' she said after a moment of silence. To her ears, her voice sounded shaky.

'I hate what I've become' Draco said simply with a half-hearted shrug. 'I'm trapped, with no way out, and... I'm scared,' he confessed.

Hermione stepped forwards another pace, her soft brown eyes wide and sympathetic. She stopped right in front of where Draco stood. 'I want to help you find a way out,' she said.

Draco's grey eyes were stormy- brimming with so many different emotions that Hermione could not put her finger on. 'Granger, how can you help me?'

'I don't know,' Hermione admitted. 'Malfoy, I don't know. But I'm going to try.'


End file.
